


Rise of the War Master

by LLN3dseestheLight



Series: The War Master’s Vendetta [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, My Left Hand Man (2011), Phantom Halo (2014), Smallville, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Clones, F/F, F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins, Female Xander Harris, Gen, M/M, Multi, Omega Isaac Lahey, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Omegas Don't Have Heats, Omegas Have Viginias And Cocks-deal with it, Other, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Rule 63, Sex, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23614024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLN3dseestheLight/pseuds/LLN3dseestheLight
Summary: The week of Prince Mieczyslaw Stilinski, Son of House Stilinski, Lord of House Nogitsune of Beacon, birthday celebrations would bring the start of changes that will reverberate through-out the known universe.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Xander Harris, Derek Hale/Xander Harris/Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Melissa McCall/Sheriff Stilinski, Xander Harris/Stiles Stilinski
Series: The War Master’s Vendetta [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699744
Comments: 11
Kudos: 40





	1. FIRST BOOK: WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT

**Author's Note:**

> “Governments, if they endure, always tend increasingly towards aristocratic forms. No government in history has ever been known to evade this pattern. As the aristocracy develops, governments tend more and more to act exclusively-whether that class is hereditary royalty, oligarchs of financial empires, or entrenched bureaucracy.” -Children of Dune.

**_“…In the Nineteenth Year of Lionel Luthor- the Mad Emperor’s rule. Gerard Argent’s, involvement in the destruction of Krypton, after it came to light, it made many of the subjects of the Planetary Alliance…uneasy. Genocide is not something many want to think can happen in such enlightened times- nor can one contemplate the reasons behind the actions. History will one day say that the proceeding events that lead to the Fox-Silver War were because of how beloved John Stilinski was among the Grande Houses of the Planetary Alliance. To understand what initiated the Fox-Silver War, one must grasp the significance of the planets and individuals involved…”_ **

-History of the Fox-Silber War.

By: Clark El-Kent-Luthor, Consort Royal of Imperial House Nogitsune, Lord of House El-Kent.

**The Crimson Zone.**

**Planet: Beacon**

**Home of House Stilinski.**

“… _Alpha, Beta, Omega, and Females. These four genders rule the universe._ ” The teacher droned in a near monotone, “It is a known fact that the only difference in an alpha male and a beta male is their genitals. Alpha Males have knots that swell on the base of their penis for breeding, locking into a female or the omega they are going to breed offspring with, Beta males do not. Omegas have male and female reproductive organs and genitals. They can bear offspring with alphas and betas and also _sire_ offspring with females. Most Omegas identify as _male_ in their gender. Though some Omegas do identify as _female_ in gender, many believe that gender identity among Omegas is fluid. Omegas give birth to offspring in the same way and are pregnant for the same length of time as a Female.”

Stiles Stilinski leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed, pretending to be to sleep. He could feel the rush of heat on his face at his teacher’s words.

“Alpha Males and Omegas are a genetic throwback to a time when most Females in the Universe were wiped out by a plague that no one remembers the name of or its point of origin. Though many historians theorize that its origin was that of the lost homeworld of the human race, _Terra_.” The teacher spoke on, finding this subject as interesting as Stiles did from her tone. Which was to say not at all.

Miss Bella Baggins had been his teacher for the last five years. A dark-haired Hobbit beauty, with only a few silver strands, causing her hair to glisten with natural high lights, and she had lightly tanned skin, if it weren’t for her clipped Arda accent and short stature, she could have been mistaken for a Beaconite native.

“Science found a way to give males the ability to have offspring...hoping for Female children to replace the dwindling Female population. It succeeded but not for many generations. Even now, on some planets, the ratio of females to males is four females to two males. With all the changes to male genetics, mutations were bound to happen. Alphas Males are a mutation that became a predominate one on most worlds of the Planetary Alliance.” Miss Baggins said as she paced, the skirts of her russet-colored dress brushing against the floor.

This, Stiles knew, was a bitter fact of life. The lecture was unneeded. Why was he being forced to sit through it? Did his father think that he didn’t understand his duty? It’s not like it was Stiles’ fault he was born an Omega. He knew this… _hey, am I falling?_ Stiles hit the floor of the educational room with a dull thud; a shock of pain shooting up his back, he looked up into sepia-colored eyes gazing down at him.

Miss. Baggins expression was that of concern, as she moved her foot from the rung of the chair, she inquired, “Are you alright, My Lord?”

Stiles frowned, looking up at his teacher, “Did…did _you_ kick, my chair out from under me?”

“Are you accusing me of less than lady-like behavior, my lord?” Miss. Baggins asked a little smirk at the corner of her mouth, tilting her head to the side, causing her long braid, her curls trying to escape from it, to fall over her shoulder.

Stiles’ eyes wide and with a quick shake of his head said, “ _No_ , Miss. Baggins.”

“Good. Pick up your seat and will start with the Ruling Laws of Beacon.”

Stiles wondered as he picked up his chair and sat back at his desk, why they were repeating lessons. He learned those years ago. Which was so unfair! Because if Stiles had been born a woman? There would be no question if he could or should rule Beacon. Stiles would be able to do so. But John Stilinski followed the traditions of the Inheritance Laws. It was utter _cat-shit_ because an Omega could inherit the title of a Great House on Beacon and some planets of the Zones? _Omegas_ _were_ the rulers! The members of the ruling Quartet of the Planetary Alliance have been Omegas in the past! Even the Emperor of the Universe answered to the Quartet! The Emperor’s son was an _Omega,_ and he was going to _rule_ the Universe one day!

But an Omega could _not_ rule Beacon. _Utter cat-shit!_

“My Lord!” Miss. Baggins said, harshly, “Please pay attention! I know your birthday week celebration is almost upon us, but you still have lessons to learn.”

Stiles sat back in his chair, rolling his eyes, that was right. He turned eighteen this cycle.

The people of Beacon got to party for a week, with paid time off. For Stiles, it was going to be a week of dealing with jealousy half-siblings, political maneuvering, and receiving things he didn’t want or had no use for.

In short? A diplomatic nightmare, he was going to be forced to take part. And if Stiles was fortunate? No one from any of the Houses from Violet Zone or Black Zone would show up. If Stiles hadn’t been the son of the Duke’s favorite mistress, deceased and fondly remember as she was? Stiles would only get a day, like the other illegitimate but acknowledged children, that the Duke had in the Great Houses of Beacon.

Stiles didn’t want to deal with anyone from the Violet Zone. The Imperial House, to be exact, especially not the heir to the Known Universe. The Imperial Prince was such a bitch to deal with most of the time. More so when sent out to rub elbows with the children of the Grande and Great Houses for his father’s political maneuverings. The rumors coming from the Gray Zone were disturbing, to say the least. Though many of the Houses in the Gray Zone had tried to keep things on the low-down stories about interdimensional monsters, inhumane experimentation and children with superpowers were slowly making their way through the Planetary Alliance.

The _Demon Horde_ was pushing against the outskirts of the Bronze Zone. Stiles knew it was just a matter of time before the Houses of the Bronze Zone asked for help from the Planetary Alliance. No one wanted the Horde to gain more than the small foot hole they already had in the Bronze Zone.

"…It is a long-standing tradition that the brides of Beacon are given a boon or gift by their Alpha-husband, Omega Consort, or Female Bond-mate to be. It is also a common tradition among many of the Grande and Great Houses of the Planetary Alliance with some variations—" Miss. Baggins was cut off at the sound of a blaring alarm, the lights in the room diming and changing to an angry scarlet glow making the room looked like it was covered in blood. Stiles jumped out of his seat and ran out of the room, ignoring Miss. Baggins as she called after him. Stiles had only one destination in mind.

_The throne rooms._

Stiles ran down many hallways, twisting and turning quite a few corners, dodging people in light tan-brown and forest green uniforms. Stiles straightened his formal crimson-colored military-queue tunic jacket; he ran a hand over harsh lines of the black and purple fox that looked like it was eating golden double suns, that was on the left of his chest, out of nervous habit. Walking into the throne room Stiles' ears rang from the booming sound of the alarm blaring through the palace. The signal was only supposed to sound during an attack, and since no hostile forces had taken over the palace, Stiles wondered why it was still going off. It looked like someone had jumped the gun on pushing the button for it. Stiles watched as the members of the Court run around like headless chickens.

_Useless,_ Stiles thought, _the lot of them._ He looked around the room until he found his father, pacing in front of the golden throne with stylized double suns carved on it, the symbol of the Grande House Stilinski of Planet Beacon.

“Someone shut off that noise!” John Stilinski, Grande Duke, ruler of Beacon, shouted, irritable. The expression on his face, combined with the tired look in sky-blue eyes, was enough to tell Stiles the situation was a grave one. Stiles walked up to his father as the older man ran a hand through graying blond hair. The crows-feet around his eyes were from the constant worry that came from ruling a planet. Something that was never going to be Stiles’ problem. His father was going to have to choose one of the many Alpha bastards he had among Great and Noble Houses of Beacon for an heir. Stiles wasn’t bitter about that, not at all. He knew he had been lucky enough to be raised in House Stilinski after his mother’s death. Stiles didn’t need or want the throne of Beacon. He had enough on his plate with being the Heir of his mother’s house, Nogitsune.

“What’s going on, Dad?” Stiles asked. It was not his father who answered him.

“Mieczyslaw, you must start addressing the Grande Duke more formally. You are no longer a child.” Lady Melissa McCall scolded. Stiles winced as the woman butchered his real name. Melissa was a classic Beaconite beauty a few years younger than his father’s age with the deep dark brown eyes that were common among Noble Houses of Beacon. Melissa's skin tanned from the double suns that shown down on the desert planet. Though a few shades lighter than a commoner would have due to her life as a noblewoman, her exposure to the suns was less.

“When you start addressing me by my formal title,” Stiles paused, glaring at the older woman, she had never once addressed him as Lord Nogitsune. She had some gall telling him how he should treat his father, “perhaps I’ll do the same for my father. You need to remember that you are _not_ my mother and have _no right_ to reprimand me.”

“Stiles! Do not speak to Lady McCall in such a manner!”

_Huh,_ Stiles thought, _Melissa must be sharing dad’s bed at the moment._ His father only scolded him about what he said to Melissa when she did. “I’m sorry, _Your Grace_ , for putting your mistress in her place,” Stiles muttered, “since _you_ aren’t going to do it.”

John Stilinski snorted at his son humorlessly. “Mel knows her place. She doesn’t need a snot-nosed brat telling her where it is.”

Melissa glared at Stiles as she brushed nonexistence dirt from the emerald silk skirts of her short-sleeved day dress. Wrapped around her upper right arm, she bore the two solid thick black bands of her House’s symbol. The tattooing of a House symbol onto oneself when coming of age had become a widespread practice twenty years ago and had yet to fall out of favor on most planets.

“Stiles, stop picking fights with her,” John said as he walked to over the consul with the vid-screen. It was showing a small red dot that was Stiles knew was a ship at least the size of a small personal vessel or a large escape shuttle orbiting the planet. Stiles stepped closer to the consul to get a better look at the screen.

“Is that…” Stiles started to ask but was spoke over by a beautiful young dark-skinned woman with long, straight, black hair and matching eyes.

“Ten minutes ago, we received a distress signal from a Silber Pleasure Craft. It claims to have been attacked by Camelot Forces.” The woman wore the dark forest green robes of the Emissary of _Tala Nane_. The Druids have a hand in everything thing, that went on in the universe. With a druidic present on every planet. The worship of the Four Goddesses and the Old Religion was two of the main four practiced in the Planetary Alliance. Stiles shook his head in confusion. If a Camelot battleship _had_ attacked this ship? No one would have known it. The Prince-General of Camelot would have made sure of that. Camelot’s space fleet was third largest in the Alliance. Beacon’s coming first and Metropoli **s** coming in second.

“Did they say why they were attacked, Emissary Morell?” Scott McCall asked, walking over to the consul, a worried look in the brown colored eyes he shared with his mother, though he didn’t have the same glint of cunning in them as she had. He pushed back his floppy black hair from his forehead then ran a hand along his slightly angular jawline. His tan uniform bore his house symbol on his right sleeve, on the collar of his tunic jacket, he had the double suns of Beacon, the mark of a vassal lord of House Stilinski.

“No. All that came through was a garbled request for sanctuary.” The emissary said.

_Well, that’s not good._ Stiles thought. It was never a good thing when a ship other than an Imperial one left the Violet Zone. The people of that Zone were profoundly xenophobic and rarely left it. The only exception was when someone married into a House that was in a different region of the Universe. But that hadn’t happened in the last hundred years. Though there had been some talk of Grande House Argent of Planet Silber, joining Grande House Hale of Planet Triskelia five years ago, it never happened. There had never been any valid explanation as to why, though the rumor was that Kathrine Argent had made untoward advances towards the third son of House Hale. Queen Talia Hale had banished Kathrine Argent off of Planet Triskelia.

Stiles frowned at the expression on his father’s face, “You’re not considering giving whoever is on that ship sanctuary, are you? There have been Imperial ships bearing the _Fleur-de-lis_ insignia have been attacking Lycan ships ever since—”

John cut him off, “Despite what rumor might say we don’t know for sure it’s Grande House Argent that has been attacking the Lycan ships. Emperor Luthor has no reason to attack a planet in the Planetary Alliance. Everyone knows that to attack our sister planet, Triskelia would mean going to war with us. Besides, son,” John smiled, but it was weak, “helping whoever it is on that ship will only ensure better relations between Metropolis, Silber, and Beacon. We have to be careful in our dealings with them. Our intel is that House Argent is building up their space fleet with the help of Emperor Luthor.”

Stiles knew that his father right; it didn’t mean at he had to like it.

“Will there be war?” Scott asked.

“That is what we are trying to avoid,” John said softly.

Twenty minutes later, Stiles was standing next to his father’s throne when the doors to the throne room are thrown open. General Gibbs, a striking man in his late forties with graying-brown hair and Beacon brown eyes. He marched into the room, leading a pretty, girl with skin that had a bright silvery sheen like it had been covered in silver glitter, her brown-almost black hair was in a sleek, elegant bun. Her soft, innocent coffee-colored eyes reminded Stiles of a delicate furry creature that was native to Triskelia. She couldn’t have been much older than Stiles. The girl also wore the gray and white armored uniform of an Elite Silber warrior.

“I am Allison Argent, the Last Daughter of Grande House Argent, of Planet Silber, cousin to Imperial House Luthor. You will grant my request for sanctuary, Grande Duke of Beacon?” The girl asked, her words formal and distilled, a sure sign that she had a _Babble-Fish_ translator implant. Most Grande and Great Houses got them because many married into other off-world Houses for political reasons, not everyone spoke Standard Esperanto, and it got awkward when you couldn’t understand when your spouse was insulting you.

“I’m thinking about it,” John said as he sat down on his throne.

Allison raised her chin, proudly, “I have two demands, cousin.”

Stiles wondered if she meant to say that or if the _Babble-Fish_ just translated that wrong?

As far as Stiles knew, there was no relation between House Beacon and that of House Argent. While it was true that most Grande Houses are blood relations or related because of marriage bonds, not all Grande Houses were associated with each other. Many of Grande Houses were descendants of the Original Thirteen Colonies of the Children of the lost planet of _Terra_ , which colonized the known universe more than three thousand cycles ago.

The king frowned at her, “You are not in any position to be making demands, child. But as a kindness, I’ll hear them out.”

“War is coming, Duke of Beacon. I want protection during it. My family…” Allison trailed off, looking upset, “the members of my House are going down a path of which I should not follow. Trying to make war upon on Triskelia and other planets of the like,” she shook her head, “my father sent me here because though you may be Triskelia's closest and strongest ally, you are also a fair man. He sent me here because he knew you would keep me safe. He said you were a good friend to him once.”

John nodded, “I remember Chris Argent, well.” The soft tone John spoke in caused Melissa to stiffen. _Ahh,_ Stiles thought, _the man must have been one of dad’s past lovers._ The past lovers of John Stilinski were the only thing that caused Melissa to get that pinched look on her face.

“My father’s hands are tied since he abdicated the throne. My grandfather seized power after my grandmother’s death. He deemed my Aunt Kate as unfit to rule after what happened with Triskelia. The Emperor has refused to step in and stop my grandfather’s insanity. I fear what he may be planning.” Allison said.

It was never a good thing when the Emperor of the Universe decides to let his subjects fight each other unchecked.

“Why didn’t you take control?” Stiles asked. “Silber is a matriarchal society. It would make sense that the people of Silber would prefer a Female’s rule to that of a male.”

Allison looked at him, surprised. Stiles remembered that Omegas on Silber were seen but rarely heard.

“I’m underaged. I have to be twenty-one cycles before I could be crowned, and I’m only eighteen, though if my Aunt Kate as her way? I won’t ever live to be Queen of Silber.” Allison told them.

John nodded at this, “And your other demand?”

“The choice of who I am to marry.”

John barked out a cold laugh, “You are a bold one, Last Daughter of Silber. Your political worth is your only value as a refugee. If I abide by that demand, you have nothing to offer Beacon or my House.”

Allison pulled a USB from a pocket on her armor, “My grandfather’s attack plans for the next six months.”

Stiles groaned, “Those plans are only good for an attack or two before your grandfather realizes you have them if he doesn’t already. They're worthless.”

Allison looked confused before she asked, “Why do you continue to _allow_ this Omega to speak?”

It was her detersive tone that caused every Omega in the room to glare her. Stiles barely took notice when Isaac Layhe moved closer to him, though the put out look on the cherubic-looking Omega’s face told Stiles all he needed to know about the knight’s thoughts on the Argent Princess.

_Oh, no, she didn’t,_ Stiles thought, but said, coldly, “ _Omegas,”_ Stiles stressed the word, “are allowed to speak their minds, own property and to do what they _want_ so long as they don’t break any laws. Is that not the same on Silber?” Stiles questioned mockingly, knowing full well it wasn’t but wanted to hear the girl say it anyway.

“Omegas are bonded with their Alpha, Beta, and/or Female. They are pretty, gentle creatures meant for the care of the children in the Union and to keep the home. Omegas aren’t _meant_ for anything else.”

Before Stiles knew it, he was in motion towards the princess, a hand on the handle of the Lightening Whip at his waist, anger in his eyes, but before he could get near the girl, he was grabbed by Isaac, “Think before you act,” he whispered harshly, into Stiles' ear. Isaac’s curly ash blonde hair fell over his gold glowing Lycan eyes.

Stiles shook off Isaac’s hold, as he said, “I’m only going to give you one warning, princess. Speak like that again to any Omega on Beacon, and you will find yourself in unwelcome circumstances. Omegas are free to do as they please.”

Allison smiled, slowly, sweetly, slyly, “But _rule_ Beacon.”

Stiles clenched his teeth to keep from saying anything to that. It was true, and it wasn’t going to change any time soon.

“A word of advice, Last Daughter, if you wish sanctuary here? Don’t make an enemy of my son.” John said, his face severe, but amusement laced his tone.

“You will grant me sanctuary?”

_Strange how that still sounded like an order,_ Stiles thought.

John nodded and motion to Scott, “We would never turn away someone in need. Lord True, will show you to where you will be staying in the palace. Welcome to _Hills_ , Last Daughter of Silber.”

“Educate her, Scott.” Stiles snarled, making Allison stiffen at his tone, “If she ever speaks about Omegas like she just did? I will have her thrown off Beacon so fast; her head will spin!”

Allison looked at John, but when he did not contradict his son’s words, she gave Stiles a single nod of her head to show that she grasps how serious the prince was, Scott, led Allison out of the throne room, speaking to her softly.

“She seemed nice,” John said, sarcasm lacing his words.

“Yes, Your Majesty, _very nice_ ,” Lady McCall agreed.

Stiles groaned. Knowing that the older woman was already planning her next intrigue, Stiles walked out of the throne room. Sir Layhe at his heels. Once they were alone, Stiles turned to the knight, “Keep an eye on our new guest, Isaac.”

“Yes, my prince.”


	2. Chapter Two

**_“…It is said that my seduction of Scott McCall, Lord of the House True, began the moment that I laid eyes on him. This is not so. The truth of the matter is, it began with a mother’s approval…”_ **

****

-Quote From: _The Memoirs of The Silver Queen_.

By- Allison Argent, Queen of Silber.

Allison Argent, the Last Daughter of House Silber, had in the last week, come to hate the enormous double suns that hung in the bronze sky of Beacon. The dry heat that sapped her energy by mid-afternoon was not something she was ever going to get used too. Allison didn’t think she ever would, no matter what Lady McCall said. Allison missed the cool breezes of Silber’s autumn weather, the fall of snow, in the mornings that would welcome her on waking for the day. All that greeted her here was the unbearable heat, harsh blowing sands, dry grasses, and never-ending feeling of thirst. Not that _she_ went thirsty, water in the palace water was plentiful, but it was always with the reminder that in other places on Beacon, this was not so. The Beaconites had been kind to her, no one more so than that of Lady McCall. The woman, as Allison had found out, was John Stilinski’s mistress. And instead of being looked down on by members of the Beacon Court. Lady McCall was granted more privileges than anyone in the same position would never have on Silber. Allison had even been so bold as to ask Lady McCall why that was, Melissa McCall had laughed brightly and said,

_“The Grande Duke is never going to marry, not now, not unless he has a chance at an Imperial marriage, and Emperor Lionel has kept his omega son far from John’s reach. I have the Duke’s ear; at his table, I sit on his right. I shared his bed, and if I chose could even give him a child that one day have a claim to the throne of Beacon as legitimate as any of his other bastard children could lay claim too. I’m the closes thing Beacon will ever have as a Grande Duchess, even though I will never officially bare the title.”_

It was no secret that John Stilinski had a roving eye and that he had taken many bedmates over the years. Resulting in quite a few bastard children. Though he only seemed to favor a few of them and only the ones among Great and Noble Houses of Beacon, though it was rumored that he had a few scattered among the Grande Houses of the Landsraad.

The Landsraad kept the other Houses of the Planetary Alliance accountable for their actions with each other, such things as making sure petty grievances didn’t turn into full-blown vendettas. Inter-Planetary warfare was not something to be desired. If the Landsraad could not take care of the problem, it was then brought before the Quartet. The Quartet Council members were elected by the Houses of the Landsraad to mediate any grievances that the Landsraad could not come overcome. The Quartet Council was created to oversee that the Imperial House did not misuse the power it was given. They were the subtle reminder that the Imperial House and all members of the Landsraad were servants of the to the planets that they ruled over.

Allison turned away from the starkly beautiful sight of the sand dunes, rolling in the distance because of the high winds pushing the sand around in waves, beyond the palace walls. Allison paced around her room. Her father had sent her to Beacon to be protected from her grandfather’s foolish plans. Allison wasn’t sure what her grandfather was thinking. One would think after the information about Krypton had come to light that he would want to lay low. No, not Gerard, it seemed he had taken the universe’s horror at his past actions as a challenge to be surpassed. Her Aunt Kate wasn’t much better; her activities on Triskelia had been just as horrid, Allison thought.

They had all known that Kate’s preferences were _different_ from other females but to seduce a not yet of age Alpha with the end goal of said seduction being to kill the royal family of Triskelia? It was insanity, Allison knew. One that her grandfather had backed. Allison’s father had seen how wrong Kate’s and Gerard’s actions had been.

_“John Stilinski is an old friend.” Chris Argent said, running a hand through his silvery hair, the light reflecting on it made in shine, as he paced around their family quarters, it was the feature most admired by the women of the Silber Court. “He will protect you from the wrath of the other Houses of the Landsraad when your grandfather’s and Kate’s actions come to light. And they will because neither of them can see how are wrong they are in their thinking.” He paced around the family quarters of their palace. “Bellona bless her, your mother would have been appalled.” Allison’s mother had been killed the cycle before under mysterious circumstances. Though she nor her father could prove it? They were confident that Gerard and Kate had been behind Victoria’s death._

_“But if they have the Emperor’s backing—”_

_“The last thing the Emperor wants is the fact that he is or had endorsed their actions.” Chris snapped, “It would put him at the mercy of the Quartet. They have been waiting for a reason to remove House Luthor from the Imperial seat for decades. And that is the last thing Lionel wants to happen. They play a dangerous game with that Ash addict.”_ _Chris sighed, “The best thing for you? Marry into one of the Houses on Beacon.” At her confused look, “I know, I know, your mother had plans for an Imperial marriage for you, but Lex is an omega and prefers Alphas. Lena and Mercy are too young for you, and it will be over my dead body that you are wed to Lucas.”_

_“There is always the Emperor himself…”_

_“No.” Chris hissed. “Everyone knows he killed Lillian in a fit of jealousy. I’ll not see that become your fate.”_

_“But Father, an Imperial marriage could—”_

_“No! You will go to Beacon!”_

_“Grandfather won’t let you send me away!”_

_“Your grandfather as no say in how I raise you. If I think you need to spend time on Beacon to further your education, then that is what I’ll do. I will keep you safe from their plots, Allison!”_

_Allison crossed her arms over her chest, not able to keep the pout from her face. She hated the fact that her father had never married her mother, it gave him full parental control over her until she came of age. Yet because Allison had been born a female, on Silber, automatically, it had made her a legitimate heir to the House Argent. Had she been born a male? She would have been considered a bastard._

_“Allison, try not to see me sending you away as a punishment, but as an opportunity.”_

_“For what, Father?”_

_“John, as many children, all who will one day have a chance for the throne. Marry the right one? And you can be Grande Duchess of Beacon!”_

_“Why would I ever want to be Grande Duchess of that dust ball? When I could be Queen of Silber?”_

_Chris smirked, “This is a chance to be more than a mere queen. There are many things you don’t know about the universe, Ally, each planet in the Zones as its own secrets. Beacon is no different. Find out Beacon’s secret? And you could one day rule the universe with it.”_

A knock came, startling Allison from her thoughts. “Come in,” she called out.

The door opened, and Lady McCall walked into the room, “The day is about to start, Last Daughter. We have many things to do.”

“What things?” Allison asked, eyeing the woman suspiciously.

“Trust comes hard to those of Beacon. It’s time you started to earn it?” Melissa told her.

“How do I do that, my lady?” Allison asked. She remembered the look Mieczyslaw Stilinski gave her the other day as they passed by each other in the halls of the palace when she was out for a walk with Lord True as if Allison were the scum of the universe. The omega disliked her no matter how she tried to charm him. His first impression of her did her a disservice. How was she supposed to know omegas were treated differently on Beacon than they were on Silber? All Allison had known was that her father used to say that it was a shame that John Stilinski’s favored son was an omega, and because of that, John would never let him inherit the throne.

“You start by getting to know the Houses of Beacon and making friends among them,” Melissa said.

“You mean allies, don’t you?”

Melissa shrugged but didn’t answer that. “Come have breakfast with us.” She gave Allison a sly look, “My son seems quite taken with you, already. You could do worse than to cultivate a friendship with him.”

Allison could not say the woman was wrong. Scott McCall was an Alpha, and the lord of his house. Scott was also handsome, kind, and sweet. Scott had treated her with nothing but the respect that her station deserved. And if he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box? Well, one couldn’t be perfect, now could they. Allison, though, had not been born yesterday; she could see what this woman was doing. Allison was the heir to her House, and would one day be Queen…if Kate didn’t kill or have her killed first.

“Breakfast sounds wonderful, Lady McCall.”

***

Melissa led the Argent princess to a large dining room, with a long red mahogany table with high back chairs. Sitting at the head of the table to Allison’s surprise was John Stilinski, he was scrolling through the tablet in his hands. Scott was sitting a couple of seats down from the Duke to the man’s left. As Melissa walked by Scott, she leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, “Good morning, help the princess with her chair, Scott.” She straightened and walked over to a chair next to the Duke.

Allison watched with no little amusement; the young lord practically fell out of his chair to do his mother’s bidding.

Melissa leaned over and kissed John on the cheek, “Morning, Your Grace,” she purred.

She frowned when John greeted her with an absent smile, then went back to reading his tablet. She shot him a miffed look as she grabbed her napkin off of her plate, snapped it open with a flick of her wrist, before laying it in her lap, before asking, “Will Stiles be joining us, John?”

“Hmm, yes, Mel,” John looked up, “is his surprise ready?”

Melissa nodded, “As soon as he gets here and sits at the table, it will begin.”

“What will?” Allison asked.

Scott snickered and leaned close to Allison, “The Duke got Stiles’ celebrity crush for his birthday.”

John sighed, “You make it sound like I bought the man like a slave. I merely hired an entertainer for Stiles’ birthday. I know that my son likes to watch his holo-vids.”

“Stiles is going to be so disappointed when he realizes that he doesn’t get to keep him.” Scott snickered.

“Keep who?” Was asked when Stiles walked into the room, followed by his knight, Isaac Layhe. Scott dropped his gaze to his plate and blindly reached for his orange juice, motioning to a servant to refill it. Stiles and Isaac took seats at the table.

Allison frowned; it was unheard of for a knight to dine with the Argents as if they were family, “Is it common for you to dine with your knights, Lord Nogitsune?”

Stiles narrowed his eyes as her but was saved from answering her when John said, “Isaac and his older brother, Jordan—”

“Half-brother,” Isaac muttered, “Well, technically, Jordan Parrish is a clone of Camden.”

John rolled his eyes, indicating to Allison this was something he’s heard before, “As I was saying, they were raised—”

“Grown in a test tube—”

“In the palace with Stiles.” John glared at Isaac, who only smiled innocently back at him.

Clones were an iffy issue on most planets. The manufacturing of clones was outlawed on Silber and a few other worlds across the Known Universe. On other planets cloning one’s dead relatives or for organ transplants was common practice. Clones being used as servants or slave labor was not unheard of either.

“I didn’t know that cloning was an approved of practice on Beacon,” Allison the disgust clear in her voice.

“It’s at times a necessary evil.” The Duke muttered as he picked up his coffee cup and took a sip from it.

Isaac glared at Allison for her tone, “You don’t seem to know much about Beacon, do you, princess?”

Allison couldn’t really respond to that because it was the truth. She _didn’t_ know anything about this desert world that was to be her home for the foreseeable future. Instead of betraying that though, she kept her silence. As the servant walked up to the table and started to refill their orange juice glasses.

When the servant got to Stiles, though the lord held a hand over his cup, he gave the servant an absent look, Stiles started to say, “None for me—” he blinked, and his mouth dropped open in shock. A beautiful honey-haired, lithe statured boy with haunted dark brown eyes that might have been a couple years older than Stiles stood there holding a pitcher of orange juice, Stiles whispered, confused, “You’re…”

The young man smiled brightly and put the pitcher of juice on the table then he began to speak with what sounded like a Londonium accent, “If this, doubt, falls into thy hand, revolve in my stars I am above thee, but be not afraid of greatness.” His voice started soft, but grew in confidence and strength as he continued to speak, “Some are _born_ great, some _achieve_ greatness, and some have greatness _thrust_ upon 'em. Thy Fate is open. Let thy blood and spirit embrace it. And, to ensure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants. Remember this above all: _to thine own self be true,_ and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to **any** man.”

“Most of that was from the Twelfth Night,” Stiles said, “but the last bit.”

“It’s actually my favorite Shakespeare quote.” Said the blond, he held out his hand, “Samuel Emerson, my lord.”

Stiles smiled and shook his hand, “Stiles Stilinski—”

“Lord Nogitsune to you,” Isaac barked harshly, eyeing the blond, apprehensively.

“Isaac,” Stiles said in a warning tone, Samuel only smirked at Isaac.

“Oh, no, my lord, it’s fine,” Samuel said, his smile stiff, “after all, it wouldn’t do for someone like me to forget my place.”

Stiles frowned. Before he could say anything to that, his father spoke, “Mr. Emerson and his theater troupe will be performing two of your favorite Shakespeare plays as well as some monologues from a few of his holo-vids for your celebrations.”

Samuel turned to John and bowed, “If you will excuse me, my troupe and I have some last-minute preparations to do for tonight’s show, your grace.” John nodded and dismissed Samuel, turned and started to walk out of the room, he stopped at the door and looked back at Stiles and smiled again, then left.

“Dad! Daddio! _By the Preserver_! You are the best dad in the universe!” Stiles gushed all but bouncing in his chair in excitement. John smirked, and basked in his son’s praise.

It made Allison wonder if _her_ father would ever hire her favorite vid star to entertain her for her birthday?

***

Samuel Emerson left the royal dining room, with a bounce in his step. He returned to the quarters that he and his troupe had been given for their stay on Beacon. They were full, airy, like most of the few rooms of the palace he had seen. There were medium, cubby-holes big enough for soft mattresses and bedclothes built into the walls with curtains for privacy. Samuel watched as many of the troupe members, lounge around, napping, snacking on the bowls of native fruits, or working on tablets. He walked over to his cubby-hole bed and flopped down with a sigh. Samuel had to admit that the performance had gone well. Samuel could always spot a fan of his work. If Samuel played the odds right, he could score a patron, in the form of the young prince, for his acting troupe. Having somewhere to call home would be helpful for his troupe. Samuel rolled over and reached into his duffle bag that lay by his bed and pulled out his tablet, he pulled up a screen of on it was a ship, a gleaming, sleek, purple monstrosity by it was the name- _the Halo, Phantom Class._

“One day, sweetheart, you’ll be mine,” Samuel whispered.

“Still lusting after that ship, Sammy?” Samuel glance up to Yuki smirking at him. “I worry for you,” he told Samuel, running a hand through his red-streaked, black hair, “it’s not healthy to want to bone a space ship no matter how pretty it is. It’s just not natural!”

Samuel rolled his eyes. He’s heard this before in one form or another from Yuki and the others in the troupe. “At least I have a dream, and I’m not spending my money on the first flashy thing I see…” the other boy opened his mouth, but Samuel stopped anything he might have said with, “and those Omegas on Vargas? Count as flashy things, Yuki.”

Samuel was entertained when Yuki sat on the bed and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting at him.

“Leave our leader alone, Yuki,” Henry said. Henry was a well-muscled boy with his brown hair in a buzzcut and a perpetual pissed off look on his face. He pulled Andrew, a thin strawberry-blond omega, into his lap. Andrew wiggled in Henry’s lap, trying to get comfortable. Andrew was taller than Henry, and the sight was an awkward one, “He has a goal. Which is more than I can say for the rest of us.”

“He wants to get that ship so he can leave us, Hen,” Yuki snarled.

Henry shrugged, “Samuel wouldn’t be the first to leave the troupe, Yuki. Nor the last. Our popularity only lasts as long as our pretty faces.”

“Well, it must be about over for you, Henry,” Andrew said.

Henry gasped, “Andy! My love, you’ve struck me in the heart with your cruel words.” Henry gathered the boy into his arms and stood up, “I have to punish you now.”

“Oh, no, he’s going to put that big alpha dick in me,” Andrew said over Henry’s shoulder as Henry walked to a cubby-hole, Andrew’s tone bored, “oh, the horror,” he mocked. Henry lightly tossed Andrew into the bed and covered Andrew with his body, and sealing his mouth over the blond boy’s, pulling the privacy curtain closed behind them.

Samuel grunted when Yuki crawled up next to him, distracting Samuel from the other two and titled the tablet towards him, “Maybe if you get it in another color than purple?” Yuki asked, ignoring the soft moans starting to come from the other cubby-hole.

“The color is the whole point,” Samuel said.

Quiet, _ah, ah, oh, gods!_ Were heard, coming from the cubby-hole of the other two boys. Looks of amusement or envy were shot at the cubby-hole that at least had the privacy curtain pulled down, so they couldn’t see what was happening even if it did nothing for the sounds that filtered out from behind it.

“Do they have to do that?” Samuel muttered, “Don’t they realize we can hear them?”

Yuki snickered, “That’s the point, I think. To rub in our faces, that they are in _lurve.”_ The grunted-out whispers of, _yes, love, you’re so tight around my cock,_ and _fuck yes, fuck yes,_ made Yuki squirm uncomfortably as he imagined what was happening in the cubby-hole.

“Right, _that_ ,” Samuel said disdainfully, as the sound of skin slapping against each other and creaking of the bed in the other cubby-hole got louder as did the, _oh, oh, Henry! Yes, oh, by the gods, more!_ Got louder as well too. Then end with a strangled cry of, _come on, love, come on my cock!_ And finely with a, _ah, oh, Henry! I’m coming!_

Yuki leaned over and mock whispered to Samuel, “Do you think Hen realizes that Andy fakes his orgasms more offend than not?”

Samuel burst out into loud laughter when Henry yelled, more irritable that anyone who had just orgasm had the right to sound, “We _can_ hear, you know that, right?”


	3. Chapter Three

**_“… Ash, the thing, in which a tenth of the Known Universe is addicted to in some form or another? It’s Beacon’s best kept secret and has been since the Original Thirteen colonized Beacon, and Ganymede Catamitus discovered Rowans. It’s rodent shit. Processed rat shit. Ironic, no?”_ **

-Quote from: _On the Imports and Export Trade of Beacon, -_ Emperor Mieczyslaw Stilinski, Imperial House Nogitsune.

Enormous glass windows overlooked the courtyards of the palace. Stiles watched the hustle and bustle of the servants as they made preparations for the upcoming celebrations.

Stiles looked up at the Beacon night sky, to see Triskelia, glowing like a star, the dark green landmasses, light lavender oceans and blue tones of its clouds, the planet standing out starkly, ringed by its three moons. Beacon legend claims the moons are the embodiment of the lovers of the double suns, Arrakis and Corrin. It’s one of his favorite sights during the summer months of Beacon, only second to the vast greenness that enveloped parts of his planet during the summer rainy season. It was the only time of year that water fell from Beacon’s skies. Beacon relied on polar cap ice mining and the underground water reserves for most of the planet's water. In the deeper regions of Beacon’s deserts, people wore special suits that reclaimed the human bodies' own water, such as sweat, urine, and feces, to be recycled into water that could be drunk by its wearer. Stiles had worn such a suit only a couple of times when he had gone with his father to inspect the Rowan Ash processing production sights.

Rowan Ash is the largest export of Beacon. A black powdery substance that is used to flavor foods, it’s also used in medical vaccines. Rowan Ash has as long been used as a gateway drug in research, much like LSD had been used in Pre-Colonization times, but what many claimed LSD could do? Expanding human conciseness, developing psychic or telekinetic abilities, or lengthening the human life spans. Rowan Ash _actually_ did depend on the person's genetics.

“Stiles?”

At the sound of the voice, Stiles turned to see James Barnes, standing in the doorway frowning. Straight dark brown hair that was typically pulled back fell to the tops of his shoulders, his blue eyes were as cold as ice chips. He crossed his arms over his chest, stretching the material of his black military uniform attractively, the silver metal of his cybernetic left arm gleamed in the low light of the room.

“Yes,” Stiles said, “I know, _Morderca,_ I was standing with my back to the door. I could hear you coming from down the hall.”

James Barnes had been the _Morderca_ master for the last five years, before that he had been a Winter Soldier. A highly educated, genetically enhanced, brainwashed, elite killing machine for Hydra, the Imperial House’s secret assassination network. Barnes left Hydra behind when his brainwashing was broken by a friend of his shield brother, Steve Rogers. Barnes owed his loyalty to John Stilinski because the man had saved the lives of the people he thought of as family.

“Anyone could have made those sounds.” Barnes snapped at the boy. The prince needed to be more careful. Even though Stiles is an omega, he was coming to the age where he was seen as a threat to others who wanted control of Beacon.

“I would have known the difference. You put more of your weight on your right foot to compensate for the weight of your left arm.” Stiles told him.

Barnes sighed, not bothering to argue with that reasoning. “Come on, brat, your father wants to see you.” He turned and walked out of the room, not bothering to see if Stiles would follow him. Knowing that the kid would do so, the boy had been trained by the best soldiers on Beacon to obey an order when given one. Yet, that didn’t stop Stiles from thinking for himself if the situation called for it. After a few moments, he said, “I hear you have Layhe, watching the Argent woman. Good that.”

Stiles nodded. The Argents had been causing trouble for many other planets in the Alliance. Most of it had been shady political maneuvering in the Emperor’s court or trade blockades on some of the rim worlds. Things that were mostly annoying but harmless. Then information came to light about Gerard Argent’s involvement in the destruction of Krypton, and the Argents actions were no longer seen as benign. For many cycles now, the latest volley had been at Triskelia and the Lycans.

“Do you think the Silber princess is a threat to Beacon?” Stiles asked.

“Yes, and she is most likely a spy for the Argents. I don’t care what she says.” Barnes cautioned him, “So watch yourself around her. Don’t go falling for her female wiles.”

Stiles snorted, “No worries there. I’ll leave that to Scott. Besides only one woman in the universe that has my attention.”

“Well, keep it that way,” Barnes said as he stopped by a wall and pressed a panel, that Stiles hadn’t known about. Stiles had been sure he had known of all the secret passages and corridors of the palace. The wall slid open to reveal a dark passageway, “Follow me,” Barnes said as he entered it.

Stiles frowned but followed. They had been walking down the corridor for about ten minutes when Stiles felt a change in the air. It was no longer arid and dry; he could practically taste the moisture in the air! When the corridor opened up, he heard the tickling sound of water, the _drip, drip, plop_ , as it fell into a large pool of water. Stiles could see the stone walls sweating, up beads of water. Stiles looked around wide-eyed, they were in the palace water reserve! It was a place forbidden to everyone but the Water Mistress and a couple of acolytes of the water reserves of Beacon.

Stiles saw his father sitting on a large flat rock. Katara, the Water Mistress, stood next to him, dressed in cobalt colored sleeveless robes accented with gold trim, her long dark hair was styled in two long braids, that are pulled back and clipped together with a silver hairband, her Beacon brown eyes raked over Stiles once then dismiss him.

John Stilinski looked at his _Morderca,_ “Dismissed, Barnes,” he said.

Barnes bowed and left the reserve.

John looked at his son, “Do you know what that is?” Asking as he shifted on the rock and wondered how to begin, as his son, Claudia’s son, took in the sights of the cavern room. He watched as Stiles’ gaze fell on a three-foot-high rock formation with protrusions that had holes in the tops of them; they were the length of a grown man’s arm. The sound of many small creatures breathing, growling, mewling could be heard coming from it.

“A Rowan Stump,” Stiles said, edging close to it for a better look. He knew they were common in the deep desert, but he had never seen one close up.

“What is its function?” John asked.

“Rowans are small carnivorous rodents common to Beacon, well adapted to the heat and harshness of the desert. Rowans were known to clean the flesh off other creatures that perish because of the desert. The male Rowan barrows into natural rock formations with its claws to create a nest for when offspring a female will have, the female Rowan transfers its young to them after birth for protection against the desert elements and from its natural predator, the Desert Cat. Though sometimes a female Rowan doesn’t or can’t transfer the young to a Stump and the Rowan just barrow into the sand, it’s what creates dust chasms in the deep desert.” Stiles said. _Why is he asking me about the animal, that every child of Beacon, is taught to avoid?_ “Your Grace?” Stiles asked, using the more formal address for his father, feeling in the atmosphere deserved the formality, “Why are we here?”

“You passed all of your Planetary Alliance academia courses with the highest marks in the universe. Only five other people had marks that came close to your own.” John said.

“Who?” Stiles asked, intrigued.

“Miss Lydia Martin of House Banshee almost beat your marks. But she failed the military tactics portion of the test.” House Banshee was a newer Noble House of Beacon. Mostly dealing in import and export of goods on and off-planet. The Martins having bought their title with the monies from legal and not so legal trade goods. They had been titled for less than two hundred cycles.

“Miss Alexandria Harris of House Giles of Dale in the Bronze Zone,” John had to hide his smile at the way Stiles perked up at the name. “She beat _did_ you on the military tactics,” John didn’t hide his amusement when his son cursed under his breath. Stiles’ future wife was going to run rings around him. “Though she did fail political sciences.”

_My future wife-to-be did find politics annoying though Xander did know how to use diplomacy when she needed too. Though mostly, she steamed rolled people to get her way, …which was better than killing them. Which was always Xander’s plan B,_ Stiles thought with amusement.

“Mr. Edward Nygma, a commoner from Gotham in the Black Zone.” Most of the citizens from the Black Zone were known mostly for their… _different_ way of thinking how the universe worked; many of the mottos from the planets in that zone were in the vein of – “ _We’re not insane, we just think outside the box-we don’t even see the box! What box? Kill everyone who saw the box!”_

“Clark El-Kent, Heir of House El-Kent in the Violet Zone.” Clark El-Kent had interviewed the few survivors of Krypton last year and exposed Gerard Argent being behind the destruction of planet Krypton when he posted the information on the Ultra Planetary Alliance Network, more commonly known as the Ultra-Net.

“Steven Harrington, Heir of House Harrington of Hawkins in the Gray Zone.” That was not a House that Stiles had heard of, but not much information was known the Gray Zone. Except for the _rumors_ and Stiles didn’t put much stock in those outlandish tales.

“While all of that is informative,” Stiles said, “it doesn’t tell me what we are doing,” he motioned around the cavern, “here.”

“There was another test you took with your academia courses tests, was there not?” John asked Stiles nodded slowly, fearfully. Because it was not a test that Omegas or Females take mostly because it was only offered on Beacon. “Beacon’s War Master’s _Manifesto_ has been taken only four times in the last four hundred years,” John said taking off his tunic jacket and handing it over to the Water Mistress, he rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and walked over to the stump. He walked around it, stopping before one of the protrusions, his expression hard and cold.

To Stiles horror, his father stuck a hand into the hole of the protrusion up to his elbow, Stiles shouts in alarm, “Dad!” The young of Rowans still in the nest were highly _poisonous_ if one were to get bite by one, death was almost always a sure thing. Those that survived the bite?

John removed his hand from the protrusion, stating, “The bite of a Rowan will lead to the fall into the void. Fear, strife and chaos followed by madness.”

“Why would you do that!” Stiles shouted at his father, “A bite from one of those things can be fatal!”

“It is the final test of a War Master of Beacon, you must choose three times and come away unbitten each time. A test of bravery and tactics.” John told him.

Stiles frowned, “That’s not tactics, that’s chance!”

“It’s a tradition!” the Water Mistress said, sharply, as she stepped forward. “The _Wolf of Tartarus, Defender of the Gods,_ was the first War Master of Beacon. _Catamitus_ proved his own bravery by touching the Rowan’s heart; it was at the daring words of _Catamitus_ that _the Defender_ performed this act to prove his worth to _the Preserver_.”

When Katara finished speaking, Stiles slowly undid the buttons on his tunic jacket, he slipped it from his shoulders and let it fall thoughtlessly to the stone floor of the cavern. He rolled up his shirt sleeve as he walked over to Rowan nest, he doesn’t look at his father and asked the Water Mistress, “I have to do this three-times, correct?”

Katara nodded.

Stiles slowly walked around the rock stump, he stopped at a protrusion, he slowly stuck his hand down the hole of it. Slick, slimy, liquid lined the walls of the tunnel, he could feel the heat from the bodies of the massive of rodents. Stiles left his hand for a couple of seconds before pulling it out. Stiles realized he had been lucky and that he might not be so again. Stiles would make his father proud and past this test. Stiles walked around, the rock stump, twice before stopping at a different protrusion, once more he stuck his hand down it, deep this time, up to his elbow, his fingertips brushing against the soft, smooth peach-fuzzed fur-covered body of a Rowan, slowly he pulled his hand back out.

_“I will not fear anything. Fear, like death, brings obliteration. I will face the fear. I will permit it to pass through me. When the fear is gone, there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”_ the mantra that Stiles had learned as a child came to mind as he went to the last protrusion, he glanced at his father, noting the worried expression on his face. _I will not fail. I will not fear anything…_ Stiles reached into the hole, his hand sinking down, down, down…up to his shoulder this time.

John watched as Stiles’ body jerk, “Stiles!” He exclaimed in concern. Almost listlessly, his son turned his head to look at John, his eyes dark and frightened. “Stiles?” John asked again.

Slowly, carefully, Stiles pulled his hand out of the protrusion. Between his thumb and forefinger, he held a small creature behind its head. Not old enough for its eyes and ears to be opened yet. The kit’s sharp yellowish fangs protrude from its mouth, thin strings of saliva hung from them. Legs too small to hold its body up, it’s pale pinkish-tan coloring, and long-tail made it look more reptilian than a mammal.

The Water Mistress let out a small gasp of awe at the sight of the Rowan kit in Stiles’ hand, “The Wheel repeats…” she whispered. John gave the young woman a sharp look. Religion was a pain in the ass at the best of times. He had no wish to deal with those in the sway of fanaticism.

“There is _no_ repeating anything, girl, my son just grabbed a rodent by the back of the neck. There is _nothing_ special about that.” John sneered at the Water Mistress, though he never took his eyes off of Stiles. He watched as his son turned the creature over, its back cradled in Stiles’ palm. Stiles stared down at the thing in his hand, at the sight of its exposed heart, only covered by a thin membrane of skin. He watched as it flexed rapidly as it beat pumping the blood through the tiny body. As if mesmerized, Stiles took a finger and placed it over the animal’s heart, feeling it flutter on the pad of his finger. Gently so he didn’t break that thin membrane Stiles pulled his finger away.

Katara stepped up to Stiles, holding a small, soft cloth in her hand. Stiles carefully put the Rowan kit on it. Katara wrapped it up like one would do to a newborn human baby. “When one follows the path of a God,” she said softly, “one should tread lightly,” she then backed away from Stiles.

Stiles frowned; he was following no path but his own, “What will happen to it?” Stiles asked, knowing it couldn’t be put back into the nest. The other Rowan young would scent the difference, and it would be devoured because of the difference.

“It will be raised up by an acolyte until its old enough to be released into the royal gardens,” Katara told him. Stiles nodded, turning away and going over to where he dropped his jacket, and put it back on but didn’t bother to rebutton it. Stiles watched as his father did the same, as Katara wandered more in-depth into the carven with the Rowan kit.

“Why did you touch it, Stiles?” John asked his son.

“I wanted to know why _Catamitus_ would want to touch the heart of one.”

“And do you know why now?”

“Yes, because he was _curious_ ,” Stiles told him.

John shivered, telling himself it was because of the slightly cooler air in the cavern and not at the terrible purpose behind this son’s words. Curiosity had been the end of more than one man.


	4. Chapter Four

**_“...House Hale, the Ruling House of Triskelia, can trace its ancestry to the three main Lycan bloodlines. The first consisting of that of Nkosi Rastafari- the Lion God of War and his mate, Pele Mayori- the Fire Goddess. The second being that of Cerberus Tartarus- the Defender of the Gods and Shakarri Fisi- the Guardian of the Protectorate. The third being that of Cerberus Tartarus and Ganymede Catamitus- the Preserver of the Four Goddesses…”_ **

- _The Complete History of House Hale._ By: Lysander Hale, Fourth Son of House Hale, Second Lower Prince of Triskelia, Historian of the Royal Archive of Triskelia.

**The Crimson Zone.**

**Planet: Triskelia,**

**Birthplace of the Lycans.**

**Home of House Hale.**

Derek Hale, the third son of House Hale, Frist Lower Prince of Triskelia, Knight of the Court of Triskelia, being of those things should have made it impossible for Derek to be forced to do anything that he didn’t want to do. Yet, he was still bound by the dictates of his mother! Glancing up at the planet, that hung there like a faded holo-photograph. It’s ginger skies, bronze landmasses, and coffee-colored clouds, framed in the dark lilac mid-afternoon sky, surrounded artfully by Triskelia’s three small moons.

“Selena, Valeria, and Karra,” Derek murmured to himself.

Their sister planet, Beacon, could only be seen in Triskelia’s sky during the winter season. Derek turned away from the picturesque sight; he paced the floor in front of his bed. Derek ignored the sniggering coming from his uncle, Peter, who lounged on the couch, watching Derek with a smirk.

The man was only a decade older than the nineteen-year-old prince; the older man’s long ash blonde hair was pulled back into a neat tail at the base of his neck, his bright sapphire-colored eyes shone with amusement. Derek rounded to face the man, “But I don’t want to go to some Grande’s brat birthday party, Peter!” Derek said, a whine in his voice. _I’m still being punished for what happened with Kate,_ Derek thought annoyed.

The failed engagement of Kate Argent and Damon Hale was his fault, Derek knew. If he hadn’t been so taken with Kate, hadn’t believed her honey-sweet lies? Well, his world would not be on the brink of war with planet Silber. But he’d been a very foolish boy at thirteen, one that believed a beauty like Kate Argent could love him. It had almost ended with the death of his family and would have if not for Peter. Who had realized what Kate had been planning from the moment she set foot the planet? That an alliance between the Argents and Hales with marriage hadn’t been in her plans at all.

Peter rolled his eyes, “Do you think I do? But as the Ambassador of Triskelia, I have no choice, and _you’re coming_ with me. You are closer to Lord Nogitsune in age than I am. It makes sense for you to come and give Triskelia’s gift to him. You are a prince of our people, after all.”

“I’ve never even met Lord Nogitsune! All I know is that he is one of the many bastards of Grande Duke Stilinski.” Derek’s tri-colored eyes flashed, glowing blue in irritation as he ran a hand through his short onyx colored-hair.

“He’s also John Stilinski’s _favorite_ bastard. The only one out of all of his children that bares the royal last name. Mostly to honor Claudia Reddington since he was rumored to be in love with her, John gave his son the Stilinski name.” Peter slyly glanced at his nephew, “The boy is also an _Omega_.”

Derek gave his uncle a blank look. He deliberately ignored what his uncle was implying. The prince of Beacon was engaged to Miss Xander Harris of House Giles of Dale. If his younger sister, Cora’s obsessive following of the gossip from the other Houses of the Landsraad could be trusted.

“Derek! The boy is of courting age and can be married off to an Alpha! We could use a closer tie to Beacon.” Peter said, “Besides, it’s not like you don’t know the boy at all, though I will admit it has been years since you see him.”

“Eh?” Derek muttered, a confused expression across his face.

“You met him the last time you went to Beacon.”

“That was almost eight years ago, Peter! The only thing I remember about Beacon is sand, unbearable heat, and the roars of Battle-Cats,” Derek frowned, thoughtfully, “I still want one.” Remembering the large animals that were so big, a full-grown man could ride, the enormous felines that the Beaconites’ used for traveling in the desert, hunting, and ground warfare.

“You also met him at a Planetary Alliance meeting on Nemeton three years ago. He was that pretty, shy-acting omega that hid behind John most of the time they were there.” Derek frowned more. Peter sighed, “He was the one that threatened to cut Lord Tarquin’s hands off if he touched him again. You even spoke to him, Derek.”

“Oh!” Derek said, remembering how the clownish man from the Black Zone had flirted and had kept touching the boy that had been following the King of Beacon around on Nemeton. When the omega had finally snapped and held a dagger to the man’s throat, surprising everyone at the meeting, but the boy’s father, who had looked torn between embarrassed and proud at Lord Nogitsune’s actions, as the omega made the threat to cut off the man’s hands for his disrespect. It had been the highlight of that meeting on Nemeton. “Once.”

“Well, it’s something.”

“The kid bumped into me, Peter, and said, ‘Excuse me,’ and I said ‘it’s okay’ hardly counts as a conversation worth remembering,” Derek told his uncle.

Peter shook his head, “And yet, you remember it. It’s a good thing Laura and Damon will inherit the throne,” because twins always shared the throne if they were fraternal on Triskelia, “you have no political savvy.”

“Christian is…”

“No longer in line for the throne since he left Triskelia to court Arthur Pendragon’s witch blood sister.” Peter reminded his nephew. High Prince Christian Hale, and Lady Morgana’s courtship was an odd one. Christian had been living on Camelot for the last three years. Derek wasn’t even sure if the woman liked his brother or not, but his brother’s letters were hopeful and more about Prince-General Arthur Pendragon and Omega Merlin Emrys and the goings-on Camelot. Christian seemed happy where he was, and that was all that mattered to Derek. Their mother, on the other hand? Not so much.

“Derek,” Peter sighed, “you must start planning for your future before someone else does it for you.”

“I know my future, Uncle. I’m to be the General of the Lycan Forces of Triskelia.”

“And this is what you _want_ to be, Derek? Subservient to who wears the crown of Triskelia?”

“Isn’t that what you are, Uncle?” Derek asked.

“Of course,” Peter said, brightly, but Derek could tell that his uncle was not happy with his place in the hierocracy of Triskelia. “Every decision about my life was made by the Queen, my dearest sister,” Peter couldn’t keep the resentment out of his voice. “Without my moving and shaking among our allies, Triskelia would have many more enemies than we do. Like you, Talia has no political savvy, which is why she relies so heavily on your father and me to keep her out of trouble. And why I get to go to things like the birthday parties of bastard children. To ensure our allies _stay_ our allies.”

Derek brightened, “Then it would be best if I _didn’t_ go.”

Peter gave him a flat look, “If you are going to be the general of our military forces, you will _learn_ some political savvy, even if I have to beat it into your head.”

“And going to some _sixteen-year-olds_ party will teach me this?”

Peter sighed, speaking slowly, “Of. Course. Not. You being there will make it more bearable for me, knowing that if I have to suffer through it? So, do you.” Peter paused and added. “And Lord Nogitsune will be _eighteen_ , Derek.”

Derek snorted, he didn’t care how old the brat would be, but said, “I’m glad you care enough to share your misery.”

Peter laughed, “Family should always share such things.”

Derek walked over to the bed. He dropped down on it next to Peter, “What do I get an omega bastard prince for his birthday?”

Knowing he had won, Peter said, “Lord Nogitsune likes to read physical copies of books, though will read E-books, has a fondness for sweets and a love for weapons.”

Derek gave his uncle a side-eyed look, “And you just happen to know this, how?”

“Well, I may have gotten some insider information.”

“From who?” Derek asked, eyes wide. If House Stilinski had a traitor in it…that was a dangerous thing.

Peter smiled, “You didn’t hear this from me, but John Stilinski was quite…helpful, when I asked what his sone would enjoy as gifts.”

***

Derek wandered around the smithy. He wiped the sweat gathered on the back of his neck from the heat, of the forge, with a rag before tossing it aside. Looking through past projects for something worthy to be gifted to a prince. He bypassed the axes and spears, as well as a couple of maces, though he paused at one, it was slender, with thick nails near the head of it, lightweight yet, Derek knew it could be lethal in the right hands. It was then when he saw it, the blade. It was the one that had earned him his mastery of craft, for the sword was his most exceptional work, to date. It was a katana style blade. It had been hard to craft for Derek had done it in the ways of the old masters. His teacher had supported his work on the sword. But Derek had never been happy with the hilt on it. He thought the black handle to be to plain for such a sword.

Gently and careful, Derek turned the blade over in his hands, then and an idea came to him. He put the sword down and got to work. By the time he was finished with the sword, it would be a gift worthy of a prince. A few hours later, Derek looked down at the new hilt he had created for the blade. He ran his thumb between the delicate-looking ears of the animal he had crafted. It’s jewel in-laid eyes seemed to gleam at Derek mischievously at him. Derek nodded to himself and put the new hilt down, tomorrow he would connect the hilt and the blade.

Derek left the smithy, he decided to go ask his sisters for some book recommendations. Derek also thought that perhaps a Triskelia food delicacy would make an excellent gift?

***

A blond young man wandered through the darkened halls of the palace until he came to the room he wanted. He carefully picked the lock on the door to the office; after a couple of tense minutes, the door swung open. The boy entered the room and went over to the computer on the desk, he sat down in the chair and touched the screen, turning on the computer. He pulled a USB out of the pocket of his shirt and inserted it into the port. He waited a few moments for it to connect then hit a few buttons on the screen, for a moment the monitor went dark, then the image of a beautiful woman with dark golden hair and glittery silver skin appeared, her see-through red dress showed off her assets well,

“ _Well, sweetheart_?” The woman asked a smirk at the edge of her lips.

Before the boy could answer, a man appeared over the woman’s shoulder, asking, “ _Is everything in place?”_

The woman her slight smirk widened, “ _As you see, I have my spy on Beacon, my Emperor.”_

The Emperor of the Known Universe raised an eyebrow, “ _And?_ ”

“The dark fox won’t live to see his eighteenth birthday.” The boy said in a flat monotone, “The assassin will see to it.”

“ _Good, good_ ,” The Emperor said, “ _accomplish this, and you will be well rewarded, spy_.”

The boy nodded, he reached over and yanked the USB out of the port, and the computer screen went black. He returned the USB to his pocket with a shaking hand. He got up from the desk and left the room. He tried not to think about what he was going to do next. He would have to tread carefully, for if he was discovered? It would mean certain death for him and his troupe. Stifling a scream when a hand wrapped around his mouth and waist, and he was slammed into a wall. The boy’s eyes went wide at the sight of the person, hood obscuring their face, pressing him against the wall.

“Do you know how hard it has been not to be seen in this place?” The assassin hissed into the spy’s ear.

The spy reached up and yanked the assassin’s hand from his mouth, “With that _face_? I would have thought it to be a piece of cake, actually.”

Honey-amber eyes glared from under the assassin’s dark hood, “Well, it hasn’t been. I’m upping my price by two thousand.”

“You can’t do that!” The spy whispered-hissed at the assassin.

“If _you_ don’t want to be the one to get your hands dirty by slitting the prince’s throat yourself?” The assassin muttered, darkly, “Then you will pay my price.”

The spy glared back at the assassin but added his consent to the assassin’s demand. When killer had gotten what they’d wanted from the spy, disappeared as quickly as they’d appeared, leaving the spy to stew in anger.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All government suffers a recurring problem: Power attracts pathological personalities. It is not that power corrupts but that it is magnetic to the corruptible.”-Chapterhouse: Dune

**_“…The beginning of a story, a saga, or chronicles is challenging to pin down. Some will say the start for me was in the moment that Stiles Stilinski met the ones he would one day take into his house as spouses, consorts, and concubines. Others will say it was the day that House Nogitsune took the Imperial throne from my father._ **

**_I, though, suppose it began with something much more straightforward._ **

**_It started with a whisper into my father’s ear from the beautiful and cunning Silber bitch that had his favor. A woman who’s named that has been struck from the annuls of the Known Universe’s histories with extreme prejudice by Imperial House Nogitsune._ **

**_And that those who remember the events she sparked into motion with her actions still fear to speak her name… But not I, no, I remember the woman that dared to be more than a pawn in the game of thrones. A game that she had played and lost._ **

**_I remember Kathrine Argent.”_ **

-Quote From: _Memoirs of a Royal Consort_ , - Alexander Joseph Luthor-Stilinski, First Imperial Husband of Imperial House Nogitsune, Grande Duke of House Luthor.

**The Violet Zone**

**Planet Metropolis**

**Home of Imperial House Luthor,**

**Rulers of the Known Universe.**

Lex Luthor shivered from the cold air that cut through the stones of the palace every winter season. He made his way down the long corridor that glinted with gold vividly in the muted illumination from the vintage electric torches. He grimaced, passing a young courtier with an obviously shaven head. It was a fashion statement that had taken the court by storm, Alphas mostly, yet a few bold Omegas and Females, Betas being to levelheaded to followed the trend.

Lex would have; the young people of the court followed his fabulous fashion in clothes; instead, he thought. As he straightened his light-colored lavender tunic dress shirt, and fleck a speck of non-existence dust from his white trousers, as he admired the shine of his black leather military boots that stopped an inch below the knee. Lex slid his palm over his bald scalp, the physical remembrance of the day, he was caught out during a meteor storm on Smallville, one of the minor moons that obits Metropolis when he was a child.

If it hadn’t been for the actions of the members of the Noble House of El-Kent? Lex might have died that day. As it was, the radiation caused his once bright red locks to fall out much to his father’s horror at the time. He had been so ill that he couldn’t be removed from the El-Kent household for almost a cycle after. The period that Lex spent in House El-Kent had been the best one of his life!

Lex was sent back to Smallville in disgrace just before his twentieth birthday after he had been discovered in the middle of a drunken orgy by his father. His father claimed it was to learn to manage their holdings on Smallville. It was during this time that the only son of the El-Kent’s had become a close companion to Lex after the younger boy had saved his life. Lex had lost control of the hover-car he had been driving on one of the back roads of the small farming town that the El-Kent’s oversaw. The hover-car ran out of the road. Hitting a boy standing by the bridge. Lex would later learn. That Clark was brooding about a girl. Going over the bridge and into the river. Clark had pulled him out of the river and saved him with the kiss of life.

_Lex gasped, coughing up a couple of mouthfuls of river water, he blinked, his gaze caught by a pair of beautiful turquoise eyes, set in the most handsome face. He watched as the younger man licked a pair of the most sinful pink lips he had ever seen. “I could have sworn I hit you,” the words tumbled from Lex’s mouth against his will._

_The boy looked at the river then slowly back to Lex, “You did,” he admitted softly._

_“How did you-we survive?”_

_“I’m Kryptonian…”_

And that was the start of a legendary friendship. It had been during the next two following cycles that Lex was on that small moon, had taught him what friendship, honor, duty, loyalty, and love were to people who did not bare the Luthor name. Lex had seen and was taught by males and females who lived by such affirmations. The love and respect he had seen between Lord Jor El-Kent, Sir Johnathan Kent, and they’re wives was wonderous to see and made Lex realize that there had been something alarming about how his father treated his wives and concubines.

Lex could hear the clinking of champagne glasses, the soft music, and the bright laughter of the members of his father’s court. _Never let it be said that Lionel Luthor didn’t know how to throw a party,_ Lex thought. He walked into the ballroom, scooping up a sparkling glass of wine from a passing servant. Lex brought it up to his lips, holding it under his nose for a moment, inhaling the light scent of grapes, citrus, and sweet honeysuckle. He took a sip, swished it around in his mouth before swallowing, it left a sour taste that coated his tongue.

“Lex!” Came the exclamation of a young man's voice. Lex closed his eyes, shivering at the effect the young alpha’s voice had on him. The way the sound made his heart beat fast, the tingle that it caused in his nether regions, the way it caused his cock to go hard in an instant. It was embarrassing! Lex was twenty-one cycles! He shouldn’t be dripping for an alpha that was only eighteen cycles that haven’t even gotten his knot wet yet! Lex knew he should fuck the younger man himself or find a lover to get his mind off of,

“Clark El-Kent,” the name rolling from his tongue like he tasted something sweet. Lex knew if he ever got Clark in his bed, it would be sweet indeed! “What are you doing here?” The El-Kent’s hardly ever left Smallville. They never would have let their heir come to the Imperial Palace. To the El-Kent’s, it was a hotbed of debauchery that could lead to the ruin of the handsome young alpha. Clark was dressed in a skin-tight black bodysuit; on his chest, he bore the ‘S’ symbol inside a shield that was House El-Kent’s insignia in white, with his belt and boots as well. Some would see the well-built body, turquoise eyes the color of the lost Krypton’s oceans and messy sapphire tinged ink dark hair, and want to debauch him. A lot.

“Lex,” Clark repeated more abruptly, grabbing the older man by the arm and leading him over to a corner of the ballroom, once they were concealed by some hanging decorations, he said, “Who’s that blonde woman with your father?”

Lionel and his many women were not a conversation he wanted to have with Clark. His father preferred redheads as his bedmates. Lex frowned, “What blonde woman?”

Clark pointed to the south entrance of the ballroom as the Emperor walked into the room.

Lionel Luthor had a face that when he was younger, one might have called handsome, but Ash addiction had brought a workworn look of long wrinkles to his face. Cold, dark, mostly black eyes- a sign of overconsumption of Ash, watched the members of the court with suspicion, his gray-going dark brown hair was full and thick, worn like the only crown he could need. On Lionel’s arm was a woman that was at fifteen cycles younger than him. Her see-through scarlet dress left nothing to the imagination. Showing off her sparkling silver skin, complimenting her shining gold-blonde hair that fell in deep waves to her waist.

_He's lost what’s left of his Ash-riddled mind!_ Lex thought, _parading someone from House Silber around after what came to light in the last cycle about Gerard Argent!_ He turned to Clark, “Kathrine Argent. Has she seen you?”

Clark had been the one to find out the information that Gerard Argent had been behind the destruction of Krypton and had released that information to the public. Lex was worried that the woman would try to enact some form of revenge on Clark.

Clark shook his head, “That’s not important, Lex! It’s what I heard,” he hissed.

Kryptonians, when exposed to yellow suns, gain abilities that most considered far too dangerous for mere mortals to have, such as enhanced hearing, strength, reflexes, speed. Oddly enough, they also got x-ray and heat laser vision too. Luckily for the universe, Kryptonians are pacifists by nature. Even the ones who survived the destruction of their homeworld, despite how angry they are about it, would not think of retaliating with violence.

Lex glanced around the ballroom, noticing some of the looks they were receiving from the others in the room. He leans close to Clark, putting a hand around the younger boy’s neck and pulling him closer, inhaling the sweet aroma grass, and apples that wafted from Clark’s skin. Lex put his mouth to Clark’s ear, barely speaking, “We are going to make everyone in this room believe that we are leaving to do one thing,” Lex brushed his lips against the skin just under Clark’s ear.

Clark shivered, placing both of his hands-on Lex’s hips, pulling him the prince against his chest, “And what’s that?” Clark sighed out, as Lex’s lips caressed the line of his jaw.

“That we are making our way to the gardens and that you’re going to fuck me over the first bench we come across,” Lex told Clark crudely. Just so he could see what the reaction he would get from Clark.

“I…I don’t think that will be a problem,” Clark said, a hand slipping passed Lex’s hip to the swell of Lex’s ass squeezing it a firm grip, much to Lex’s surprise. Clark thought that Lex would never want him to touch him this way. Lex only saw him as a friend, Clark knew this even as the pad of his thumb rubbed into the cloth-covered clef of Lex’s ass, pressing against Lex’s joyete.

Lex’s knees went weak at Clark’s low rumble, “…not with all of the rumors going around about us.”

Yes, the rumors. In the last two years, the name Lex Luthor had become synonymous with Clark El-Kent. Lex turned in Clark’s arm’s, and Clark placed a kiss at the nape of Lex’s neck, a tingle when down Lex’s spine. _He should not be so good at this,_ Lex thought. He turned his head and flashed Clark a seductive smile as he moved out of Clark’s arms and lead Clark passed many of the members of the court who were giving them knowing glances. As they made their way towards the double glass doors that lead out into the imperial gardens. They walked down a softly lit path; small fires were lit in decorative fire pits all around the garden, to fight off the chill of the winter’s night air.

“How close will they get?” Clark whispered, leaning heavily into Lex, snaking his arms around Lex’s waist. Asking about the two palace guards that had begun to follow them once they had left the ballroom.

“They’ll keep a respectable distance, close enough to hear if I shout for help, but far enough away, they won’t hear anything that would comprise my… _innocents_.” Lex sneered the last word sardonically. Innocent was the _last_ word one would associate with Lex Luthor.

“Good,” Clark said. Clark picked up Lex and moved to spin them behind a hedge next to one of the fire pits but out of sight of the guards. He pressed Lex up back against a stone pillar.

Lex shivered but from the cold of the pillar, “ _Khuda_!” He exclaimed, the name of one of the Four Gods, “Warn me before you do that!”

“Sorry,” Clark muttered, pressing close to Lex, while Clark didn’t feel the chill the same way as Lex did, he wasn’t fond of being cold.

Lex sighed, “Tell me what you heard.”

“I wasn’t trying to spy, Lex. I was looking for you, but before I got to the ballroom, I heard the Emperor’s voice.” Clark said.

With his enhanced Clark’s hearing, he wouldn’t have had to be in the same wing of the palace to have heard Lionel. “What did you _hear_ , Clark,” Lex repeated, impatiently.

“I heard Lionel ask if everything was in place, and the woman said, she had a spy on Beacon, and another male voice said that the dark fox wouldn’t live to see his eighteenth birthday.” Clark babbled out in a single breath.

_Dad has really lost his mind._ Lex thought. _Messing with Beacon is a bad idea all around. Not if we want excess to_ ** _Ash_** _._ Lex closed his eyes, nodding, the sound of the hedges rustling caught his attention, but before Lex could open his eye, he felt the soft brush of Clark’s lips. Proving once more that Clark, when it came to this game he was Lex’s equal, that he understood the guards had to see two lovers meeting to protect what Clark and Lex knew.

Lex gave a surprised moan when Clark’s tongue glided passed Lex’s deepening the kiss.

It wasn’t often that Lex felt delicate, but the full weight of Clark's body holding him against the pillar brought that feeling into focus for him. Had it been anyone other than Clark, putting him in this position, Lex wouldn’t have stood for it. Lex might be an omega, but when it came to love play? He was in control. Lex reached up and sank his fingers into Clark’s thick, soft, silky hair, twisting it around his fingers. He gave a soft tug on the strands, producing a muffled moan from Clark.

Clark responded by breaking the kiss much to Lex’s disappointment, though it didn’t last for very long because Clark fastened his lips to Lex’s neck. Lavishing wet, opened mouth kisses long the expanse of Lex’s throat, nipping at it in places. Lex knew Clark would leave a mark or two behind.

“ _Lex_ ,” Clark breathed out, just under Lex’s ear. “I... I,”

Lex gasped when he felt the rough drag of Clark’s hard-on against his own. He watched Clark’s face as he rutted against Lex, the raw desire he saw there stunned Lex because it was for _him_!

“Lex, _please_ ,” Clark moaned.

“What?” Lex asked, tightening the grip he had in Clark’s hair, his other hand raking down Clark’s back. “What do you want, Clark?” Lex’s hips jerk, pushing up in time with Clark’s movements causing sparks of pleasure to run down his spine, “ _Anything!_ “Lex whispered, “You have to know I’ll do _anything_ you ask of me!” Lex didn’t just mean just in this but that Lex would have done anything, given anything to this alpha.

“I want, oh, I _wan_ t…”

“You _can_ _fuck_ me, Clark,” Lex panted out his permission as he rutted his hips against Clark’s, “you just have to _say_ it.”

Clark jerked away from Lex; Clark’s hair slid from his fingers. The sudden chill from the lack of Clark’s body did nothing to cool Lex’s need for the alpha that stirred his passion. He would _say_ anything _, do_ anything _, give_ Clark anything so long as he kept touching him. Clark dropped to his knees in front of Lex and started to undo the prince’s pants.

“I want to _taste_ you, Lex.”

Lex was not going to say no to that. Clark got Lex’s pants open and jerk them down with his underwear around his ankles. Clark looked at Lex’s cock with wide eyes full of hunger, he glanced up, and shyly said, “I haven’t done this before…so I might not be very good at it.”

Lex’s hands found Clark’s hair once more, “Trust me, Clark,” he purred, “You can’t do anything wrong. Just mind your teeth.” Clark looked like he didn’t understand. Lex would just have to educate him when Clark made that mistake. Clark leaned over and licked the tip of Lex’s cock, as he wrapped his hands around Lex’s thighs, spreading his legs as wide as the pants around Lex’s ankles would go, Clark’s nose brushed against the side of Lex’s cock, past it down…down, when Clark’s hot tongue touched his quim, thrusting in deep pressing at his inner walls. Clark did this again and again and again, slowly driving Lex out of his mind with pleasure. Clark’s fingertips danced along with Lex’s cock in time with the motions of his tongue, teasing, cruelly, keeping Lex on the edge of his peak,

“Clark, Clark, _Clark_ ,” Lex panted out the alpha’s name like a prayer to his god, as Lex climbed higher and higher in pleasure until it slammed into him. Lex’s quim tightened around Clark’s tongue, hot slick gushed from Lex, covering it, Clark made pleased noise as he tasted a well-pleasured omega for the first time. Lex’s hard cock, which Clark had teased all through Lex’s climax, spurted when Clark sat back some of Lex’s qwert landed on Clark’s cheek. Clark reached up and wiped it off, he looked at his fingers for a moment before, glancing from beneath his lashes, licking the qwert from them.

“ _By the Four,”_ Lex panted for breath, “and you were worried about _not_ being any good.” Lex reached for Clark, but he stood and moved away.

“The guard’s gone,” Clark said as he adjusted his hard-on, and didn’t seem in any hurry for Lex to reciprocate.

“Clark?” Lex asked. Clark smiles softly at him as he quickly but gently pulled Lex’s pants back up and made Lex look more presentable, then pulled Lex back into his arms.

“What are we going to do, Lex?” Clark asked, against his friend’s neck.

Lex pushed Clark back and looked up into Clark’s eyes, seeing the understanding of how bad this situation could become if Lionel had his way. “I’m going to attend a birthday party, Clark.”

Clark pressed his forehead against Lex’s, “ _We_ , Lex, _we_ are going to attend a birthday party.”


	6. Chapter Six

**_“…Belladonna, Aconite, and Hemlock are common weeds on many of the planets. None of these are native to Beacon. Yet, Catamitus knew how to cultivate them, knew their true worth. They were his favor flowers- when they graced your table, your time was short…”_ **

- _Mythos of Catamitus, the Preserver of the Four Goddesses,_ \- A Thesis: by Lady Dawn Summers-Riley, of House Aurelius, of Dale.

“…I don’t know who I’m going to kill first.” Xander Harris said, frustrated, running a hand through her long, curly dark brown hair, sweat-soaked at the temples and the ends of it sticking to the tops of her breasts that were barely exposed by the red bed sheets she had wrapped around her as she lounged on Stiles’ bed. She leaned over to the bedside table and picked up the small black and silver marble crucifix looking like it was shot through with lightning, it was on a gold chain. Xander pulled the chain over her head, and crucifix landed between her bare breasts. Her lover shot her an amused glance as he slid from the bed to dress. She glared, her ordinarily chocolate-colored eyes, glowed bright radioactive green in the low light of the darkened bedroom, betraying her Lycan heritage.

They had met the palace rose garden of _Hills,_ two cycles ago, Xander had been almost seventeen when she had come to Beacon with her adopted father, Rupert Giles, Grande Duke of House Giles, who wanted to speak with Stiles’ father about the rise of Demon Horde activity. She hadn’t been allowed in the meeting and had been told by the Grande Duke of Beacon that the rose garden was not to be missed…

***

**Two Cycles ago…**

Xander took in the heat of the mid-afternoon suns with a pleased sigh. Space travel was so cold, even on the best ships. It was so warm on this desert planet, much more so than her homeworld of Dale, though Dale it had desert areas, and hot grasslands, it was nothing like Beacon. Xander was about to turn a corner around a desert bush with bright pink flowering blooms when she heard voices; she paused, staying concealed behind it. Though she pushed aside a few branches of the nearby hedge to see three people standing there, a boy about her age, his brown hair, was stubbled as if it had been shorn recently, dressed in the rough clothing. A servant, perhaps, Xander thought. There was a girl with hair, a shade of strawberry blonde so bright it had a deep, vibrant pink glow. She was dressed in an expensive silk purple dress, that brought out her pale skin, her emerald eyes were mean as she flashed the servant boy cruel smirk when Xander pulled her lips from the bland blond-haired boy, she had been kissing.

“You see, Stiles, I can soothe a Kandima.” She said proudly, “Because of that, I’ll be Jackson’s wife soon. You have to understand that this silly crush, as cute as it was when we were younger, can come to nothing. I don’t like you like that.” She turned away, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she did so, dismissing the boy, walking away from them. Not seeing how Stiles’ honey brown eyes turned to cold amber in the wake of her words. “Come on, Jackson, let’s go inform your parents.” Jackson gave Stiles, what an odd name, Xander thought, a haughty look, yet wilted under the coldness of Stiles glare. Jackson quickly turned and followed after the girl.

“Lydia doesn’t like you like that either, viper, she likes the title and the fortune, you will inherit,” Stiles hissed, at Jackson’s back, the blonde boy was close enough to hear Stiles’ words and flinched at them but continued after Lydia. Stiles kicked lamely at the short wheat-colored grass before walking over to a nearby bench, sitting on it, he covered his face with his hands.

Xander decided now was the time to make her presence known. She stepped out from behind the hedge, “Would you like me to kill them for you?” It was easy to make such a threat for her now; a year ago, it might have been unthinkable. Losing her childhood friend, Jessie, to the Horde Queen Darla had changed her. And perhaps in some ways not for the better, she could admit, if only to herself.

The sound of her voice caused Stiles to flail in surprise, falling off the bench, “No!” Stiles said, looking horrified at Xander’s words, waving his hands about, “Why would you say something like that?”

“The girl could have been kinder to you.” Xander told him, “That ginger-haired witch had no right to stomp on your feelings like that! Even servants have feelings.”

“A servant?” Stiles asked, seemingly puzzled.

“Well, you are one, right?” Xander questioned back.

A small smirk came to the boy’s lips, “Yes, I suppose you could say I am.” He stood up; sunlight reflected off the small medallion that hung around his neck. “Would you like to see the greenhouse? It’s just over there,” he pointed to the gigantic glass building, just beyond the edges of the garden, “we cultivate many flowers and produce not native to Beacon.”

“Cacao Beans?” Xander asked, hopefully. Because Cacao Trees only grew on a few planets in the universe. Chocolate was made from Cacao beans. The rarity of it making chocolate a longed after delicacy. Her home planet was one of the worlds, it could be grown on. Xander liked to taste chocolate made from Cacao Beans from other planets. It never tasted quite the same because of it.

“Sadly, no,” Stiles sighed as they walked towards the greenhouse. When they got to it, Stiles punched in a code on the keypad, the flashing red light turned green, and Stiles opened the door, “After you, milady.”

“Don’t call me, milady!” Xander snapped, “My name is Xander.”

“Oh, but a lowly servant like I, could never call a lady like you, by your given name. I know my place, milady.” Stiles said with a wicked grin as he led passed rows of flowers in an array of whites, reds, blues, yellows, pinks, and purples; some Xander knew the names of but most she didn’t. They stopped in front of a section that had deep purple Aconite-wolfsbane; it was called by the Ancients. Belladonna that started out white but dripped crimson at the ends of its petals and next to it not quite ripe hemlock its stem a dark forest green still.

“Your place is where I say it is,” Xander said, stepping closer to look at the aconite, reaching out a hand to touch the petals of the flower stopping when Stiles’ hand circled her wrist, pulling her to him.

“And where is that…milady?” He whispered, his breath tickling her ear. Xander was about to answer when her eye caught on the medallion once more; it was sliver with an onyx motif of what looked like an upside-down horseshoe with small bars coming out of the sides the open end of it.

Xander looked at the plants then back at Stiles, “You’re a worshipper of the Preserver?”

Worshippers of Catamitus were known to be cunning, clever, sometimes even cruel and always dangerous in ways you would never expect.

“Worshipper?” Stiles asked, his hand coming up to the medallion, he ran the pad of his forefinger over it before tucking it back under his tunic shirt. He shook his head, “I’m more of an …admirer.” He leaned close to Xander once more, “May I kiss you, Xander,” he whispered the question shyly.

Xander stared into those honey-colored eyes and realized that, yes, she did want him to kiss her. She didn’t care if he only wanted to do it because the red-haired girl had hurt him. And he wanted some form of revenge on the red-haired girl. Xander didn’t care if he was a servant, she wanted to kiss him. “Yes,” she whispered back.

Stiles closed the distance between them, his lips gently touched his lips to hers. It wasn’t Xander’s first kiss, nor her second, yet, she had never been kissed with this sort of passion, never felt this so of… _want_. Stiles left arm snaked around her waist, pulling her tightly to him as his right hand came up and toyed with the strings of her bodice as he deepened their kiss. Xander barely noticed when he tugged the strings of her bodice open, exposing the swell of the top of her breasts to his sight. The back of his fingers caressing them, the touch is soft. Xander could see the look of awe he had on his face as if he couldn’t believe she was allowing him this touch.

Stiles kiss moved from her lips to the side of her jaw, to her neck, then behind her ear, his breath made her giggle, and she felt him smile against her neck, slowly he moved down her throat, slow sinking lower until his lips pressed against the swell of her left breast. He reached up and pushed the top of her dress from her shoulders. Loosely it slipped from them down her arms. Xander pulled her arms from the sleeves, straightening proudly, the fabric from the top of her dress hung around her waist Stiles’ fingertips brushed over the tips of her nipples, the touch like an electric shock of pleasure causing Xander to quietly moan. Stiles replaced his fingers on her left nipple with the tip of his tongue before his hot, wet mouth closed over it, sucking on it hard. Creating a sharp tingling reaction deep in Xander’s cunt that she only usually got when she indulged herself with self-gratification at night in her bed. Xander tugged at Stiles’ tunic shirt, and he pulled away from her breast, a pout on his lips.

“I was enjoying that.” He muttered, then looked up, worried, “Weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Xander said, “But I’m feeling a bit exposed.”

Stiles frowned, asking, “Do you want to stop?”

Xander shook her head, “I want us on more equal ground,” she tugged at his shirt again, “Take this off.”

Stiles blinked, looking down at his shirt, then back up at Xander with a grin before reaching behind his head with his right hand and pulling the shirt off in smooth one-handed motion before tossing it to the ground.

“Better?” He asked, his tone nervous. Stiles was lithely built, his chest lightly tanned, he had the start of a patch of hair in the middle of his chest. Xander hadn’t thought chest hair could be attractive, but she found that she wanted to touch it.

“Much,” Xander told him, reaching out and gave one his nipples a flick with her fingernail, making him hiss in surprise, then she petted the hair on his chest. It was soft! She ran her fingers through it, producing a gently purring sound from Stiles. He pushed Xander up against a low table that was almost waist high and help her up on it, tugging up her skirts as he did so, revealing her stocking covered calves and thighs. Stiles stepped between her legs, his hands roaming up her calves, to her thighs, from his expression Xander could tell he liked the felt of the silk her stockings under his hands. Stiles’ hands pushed farther up under her skirts, his fingers brushing against the silk that covered her cunt, making her shiver in anticipation.

Xander grabbed Stiles’ trousers and undid the top button to them, Stiles stopped her, with his hand over hers and quickly babbled out in one breath, “Do you want this? Me? I’ll stop if you want to stop?”

Xander shook her head, “I want to keep going,” then a thought occurred to her because this shouldn’t happen unless they both wanted it too, “do you want to stop? We can.”

“I want to!” Stiles exclaimed, enthusiastically, too loudly, he seemed to realize with a wince. “But,” his eyes slid away from her, “I have to tell you something…” he took a deep breath, “I’m an omega,” Stiles said the word like he was…

“Why do you say that like you are **ashamed** of it? It’s not something to be ashamed of.” Xander said. Stiles’ eyes flew back up to meet hers in astonishment, like no one had anything like that to him before, “You have the best of the genders in you.”

“Most women want an Alpha, Beta male, or a Female for a lover, not an omega,” Stiles muttered, obliviously thinking of that ginger-haired wench, Xander thought.

“I’m not most women,” Xander stated as her hands returned to Stiles’ trousers. “I want you to fuck me,” she said crudely, surprising her herself. Xander had flirtations with both alpha and beta males, as well as a few females, but they had never gone anywhere. Xander was seventeen cycles, she should have more experience, for goddess sake! And if she were to lose her virginity, well, she wouldn’t be the first to lose theirs to an attractive, charming servant boy. Xander pushed down Stiles’ pants and underwear, taking in the sight of his maleness, knowing it hidden his femaleness from her. Xander couldn’t wait to explore him. She wanted to find out what would bring him pleasure. Xander continued, speaking, “and make my first time the best time I’ll ever know.”

Stiles gulped, squeaking out, “First time!”

Xander nodded, “Yes, you know what you are doing, right?”

“Not so much, no,” he muttered, before whispering out, “it’s my first time too.”

Hearing that made Xander shiver in excitement. To know that they would experience this act together for the first time soothed a few of her worries about not being good at it. But she would try her best to make sure he enjoyed himself. And hopefully, he would do the same for her. Xander gently took his cock in her hand, ran her thumb over the head, spreading the wetness she found there over it. Stiles’ eyes widened when she began to stroke him, “Do you like it? Does it feel good?”

Stiles’ eyes fell closed as he moaned out a soft, “Yes!” His hands slipped back up Xander’s skirt and pulled off her silken underclothes, he tossed them over his shoulder, and they landed near Stiles shirt. His fingers found Xander’s cunt, he pressed them inside her and rubbed them against the inner walls gently but with firm pressure. Xander wondered if this was how he touched himself, the thought produced a gush of wetness, that Stiles spread over his fingers thoroughly as he pressed deep within her. Xander wasn’t sure how long Stiles used his fingers to pleasure her. Xander was a shuddering, moaning mess when Stiles started to shove her skirt out of the way. Stiles removed his fingers and thrust the head of his cock against the opening of her cunt, he pushed in, causing Xander to flinch at the intrusion, she couldn’t control her claws that popped out at the twinge of pain, she dug them into Stiles’ shoulders.

“Does it hurt?” Stiles whispered, concerned in response to the feel of her claws. “Should I stop?” Xander shook her head. At her consent, Stiles kept pushing in until he was entirely inside of her.

“ _Preserver_! You’re so wet and hot, it’s so good!” Stiles hissed as he moved, pulling back and thrusting forward, the movements were jerky and mistimed.

It wasn’t painful, Xander thought, but it didn’t feel right either. Then the head of Stiles cock bumped up against the inner wall of her cunt, a shot of pleasure rolled through her, making her cry out, “Goddess!”

“There, huh,” Stiles muttered, he clamped a hand on Xander’s hip, and planted the other on the glass wall by her head, as he put more force behind his thrusts, the sounds of their bodies coming together was sloppy, wet, sounding almost obscene. Xander dragged her claws down Stiles back, leaving deep bloody scratches behind. Stiles hissed of pain turned into a moaned of pleasure. Xander could feel something building, a mounting sense of pressure, deep inside of her. The sensation overwhelmed Xander when her climax hit, it rolled over her in waves, her vision tinged green as her eyes glowed. Xander was barely aware of Stiles’ own shout of pleasure as he came deep inside of her.

The humid air of the greenhouse caused the sweat from their fucking to roll down their bodies, breathing hard into each other’s ears as they tried to catch their breaths. Stiles carefully pulled out of Xander as he moved off of her. He crawled up on to the table next to her, cuddling close to her. She looked into his eyes, and he looked back, and they burst out laughing at the same time.

“Did you like it?” Stiles asked, anxiously.

Xander shrugged, “It wasn’t awful,” her teasing tone apparent.

“Do you think it gets better with practice?” Stiles asked, slyly.

“Let’s find out,” Xander said, smirking, straddling Stiles’ thighs, his spent cock twitched when the head of it brushed against her pubic hair. Xander kissed Stiles once more, igniting another wave of passion between them…

Xander and Stiles discovered many desires with each other that afternoon. Their innocents lost to each other in that humid greenhouse at the edge of the garden. Where they delighted in each other. Stiles found the pleasure that could be found in the body of a woman and Xander, the heights of passion that an omega could be driven too.

Being found half-naked in Stiles embraced by the Duke of Beacon and Xander’s adopted father had been embarrassing. Giles turned to the duke and said, his upper-class Londonium accent was terse and harsh, “Your bastard will marry my ward, Stilinski!”

“Damnit, Stiles,” the duke muttered as he glared at them both as the scurried to dress.

And, no, thought Xander, just no, she liked Stiles but to marry? Xander realized what Giles had said, what he had called Stiles. Bastard. Stilinski. What?

“Of course, I’ll marry Xander,” Stiles said, buttoning up his pants, as Xander redid the laces of the bodice of the dress. Both Giles and the duke looked flabbergasted at the ease of his agreement. No, Xander thought again, a marriage between them right now would only end…badly. She wasn’t ready for marriage. There were things she wanted to do to see in the universe, “But not right now,” Stiles informs the two older men.

What? Xander thought, confused.

“What?” Giles demanded.

“You have my word, your grace,” Stiles said to Giles, “when we both are of age, I will take Xander as my wife. But a marriage between us now would not be good for us. We need time to get to know each other, to learn who we are away from each other, and to have those different experiences and the wisdom it would bring to the Union.”

Giles crossed his arms over his chest, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “Your word?”

“On my honor, as Mieczyslaw Stilinski, Son of House Stilinski, Lord of House Nogitsune, I swear to it,” Stiles promised.

Stiles was **Mieczyslaw Stilinski** , the bastard omega son of the King of Beacon and not a servant that she had lost her virginity too, Xander thought, followed by, I’m an idiot!

“Come, Rupert, let’s go bandy about terms of a marriage-union contract.” The duke said with a grin, taking Rupert Giles by the arm and leading him towards the door of the greenhouse, “A Union between our Houses shall be beneficial to us all. The children will join us soon,” he looked over his shoulder, pinning Stiles with a hard look, “ten minutes should be enough time to make themselves presentable.”

“Yes, dad,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. The duke rolled his eyes back, his affection evident for his son, and continued pulling Giles towards the door, talking about the marriage-union contract.

“Do you really want to marry me?” Xander asked, tying up her laced-up bodice, “You’re an omega, you’ll want an alpha one day. For basic biological reasons if for no other.”

Stiles sighed, saying in agreement, “Maybe, one day. I’ll have to have a child, an heir for my house. I don’t need an alpha’s knot for that. I can have children with a female or beta just as easily.” Stiles told her, “I know we don’t know each other well, yet, but I want you.”

“Why?” Xander asked. She didn’t understand. She wasn’t anything special. Xander was the half breed child of a feline Lycan. She was only part of House Giles because Rupert Giles had taken Xander’s mother, Jessica, as a concubine after the death of Giles’ first wife, Janna Kalderdash. Xander didn’t even know the name of the man who sired her. Or what planet her father was from.

“We’ve heard tales of the fearsome _Hyena_ and her bravery in battle against the Demon Horde, even here in the Crimson Zone,” Stiles grinned as he pulled on his shirt. “The Frist Wife of House Nogitsune will need to be fearsome.”

Xander shook her head. She didn’t know what stories he had heard but, “I’m not fierce nor brave,” and she wasn’t compared to Buffy, Faith, or any of the other Slayers. She had fought very little against the Horde, despite how much she hated them.

Stiles scrutinized Xander. Softly, sincerely, he said, “You will be.”

***

Xander had shared Stiles’ bed whenever she was on Beacon for the last two cycles now.

Which wasn’t as much as Stiles would have liked, but he understood that Xander had a duty her planet and Grande House Giles. Helping to train the young women that would become Slayers to fight the Horde at the edge of the Bronze Zone. Grande House Giles oversaw the training of these women, and the Slayers were the primary defense against the Horde, but when Xander could she returned to Beacon and got to know her future husband

As Stiles understood it, Buffy Summers was Heir to House Giles, adopted by the Grande Duke, Rupert Giles, after he married Joyce Summers. Xander, though, was only his ward, even though he had eventually married Xander’s mother, Jessica Harris. Which caused something of a scandal throughout the Houses. It wasn’t odd for an Alpha to take on more than one spouse, it was expected even, but for a Beta male to do so? And two Females at that? One of them having been a _Concubine_? Scandalous.

“Your sister?” Stiles asked as he put on his underwear and pants.

Xander rolled her eyes, “Buffy, the omega soldier Riley Finn, that’s panting after her or the Horde defector that’s bedding them both? I swear if I have to see or smell them aftermath one of Angelus’ beddings,” she shuddered, “I will not be responsible for my actions. And the sad thing, Mischief, is that Buffy nor Riley have figured out that he’s bedding both of them!”

“I’m sure Faith finds that amusing,” Stiles said, slipping a linen shirt over his shoulders. Xander’s stepsister, Faith, was an orphan that Giles had adopted, shortly after marrying Xander’s mother.

“Faith _would_ if she was there,” Xander muttered, looking upset, “Giles took her to Westeros. Faith is going to marry into House Targaryen.” Westeros was a galaxy in which all of the planets and moons were habitable, it was said that Westeros was one of the first to make contact with its sister planets. It was also wild and untamed, with a medieval mindset. It was rare for the other Houses in the Planetary Alliance to marry into a Westeros House because of that mindset. Most preferred to advance forward, not backward in technology, society, or politically.

Stiles frowned; he liked Faith, he found her to be a wildcard. You never knew if Faith was going to kill you or kiss you. Stiles wondered if she liked Westeros? “Did she want to get married to the Targaryen heir?”

“I think she just wanted to get away from Buffy.” Xander said bitterly, “A civilian was killed on patrol. It was an accident, but Buffy started treating Faith like she was a cold-blooded murder!”

Stiles never did like Buffy Summers. He had found Xander’s other adopted sister to be grating, much in the way Lydia could be, on his nerves, only Buffy didn’t have the saving grace of Lydia’s intelligence. He was glad that the blond woman rarely accompanied Xander when she came to Beacon.

“Oh, your birthday gift is on the dresser,” Xander said, wallowing back down into the bed. “I wasn’t sure what to get you, but I came across those when I was on Thrace.”

Stiles looked over at his dresser and saw the box for the first time. In his defense, he had been preoccupied with getting Xander out of her clothes to notice it before now. He walked over to the dresser and lifted the lid to the box. Inside it was ten leather-bound journals. He picked one out of the box, he could see the journals were old, the leather was dry and cracked, the pages were yellow with age and in a couple of the books were falling out. Carefully he opened one of them up, his eyes widened at the words written there.

“Are these real?” Stiles asked awe colored his voice, “Did they really belong to Catamitus?”

Xander shrugged, “I had them age verified, and they are from the same period that Catamitus lived in, but whether he actually wrote those or not? Who knows? I just thought you would like them even if they are fakes.”

Stiles gently put the journal back in the box. He went back over to the bed and crawled onto it, pulling the sheets off of Xander, kissing every bit of exposed skin as it was revealed.

“I take it you liked your gift, my prince?” Xander gasped out as Stiles trailed kisses up Xander's thigh to her cunt. Stiles only gave her a cat-like smile before he buried his face between her legs. “ _Oh!_ ” she breathed out.

Stiles didn’t bother answering her. He had a better way of showing Xander just how much he appreciated her gift.


	7. Chapter Seven

**_“…I never loved Scott McCall. I don’t care what the Emperor or the Queen of Silber told you. I’ve only ever loved one person, and that person was not Scott McCall or Allison Argent.”_ **

****

Excerpt From: _Interview with Sir Isaac Layhe-Yukimura, -_ By Adam Methos, Head Archivist for the Royal Archive of Beacon Information.

_The mattress groaned and squeaked, in time with Isaac’s low moans, he cried out loudly, when his lover’s thick cock, began to thrust rhythmically, in his pussy. Each pushed was more in-depth and harder than the last. Isaac’s fingers clenched, twisting the sheets around them. Sweat rolled down the spine of his back, fingers followed their path, leading down, the fingers rubbed his hole, lightly, pressing in, teasing, before retreating. Isaac pressed his face into the pillows to try and muffle his moans of pleasure when his lover began to touch Isaac’s cock, jerking it in time with the movements of his hips. His lover’s cock hit a sweet spot in Isaac’s pussy, causing Isaac to cry out, “Scott!”_

_Scott nibbled on the back of Isaac’s neck, as he rammed his cock inside Isaac, before exclaiming, “You’re so wet for me! I’m going to lock my cock in you! Let me lock you!”_

_To ‘lock’ was a slang term for an alpha that wanted to knot an omega. It wasn’t something that an omega let an alpha do unless there was an understanding between the alpha and omega. Isaac’s eyes widened. No, Scott, couldn’t do that! Isaac didn’t want to bear a bastard child. And even with contraceptives, he was on, there was still a possibility that Isaac could conceive a child, given the fact that Scott was an alpha. Isaac was not ready for a child, and Scott hadn’t even made any steps for a formal courtship!_

_“No, Scott,” Isaac gasped out weakly as his pussy clamped down on Scott’s cock sending waves of pleasure through Isaac, “Ah, oh, Adonai,” exclaimed out the name of one of the four gods. Isaac could swear Scott’s cock was growing thicker with each thrust._

_“Isaac! I need you. I need to lock your cunt!” Scott grunted into Isaac’s ear as his thrust became sharp, jabbing motions. “Say I can lock you! I’ll make it good for you!”_

_“Yes!” Isaac shouted in pleasure, “yes!”_

_Scott moaned lowly, as his knot began to swell, Isaac could feel it as it passed between the swollen lips of his pussy, making him shiver. Scott lost any sense of rhythm to his deep thrusts and was just chasing his own pleasure now. When Isaac’s climax came it hit him in his gut like a punch, he clamped down hard on Scott’s cock, causing the alpha’s knot to swell in his pussy, Scott jerk and shouted a name as he released streams of cum in Isaac._

_It wasn’t until the haze of passion had passed, and Scott’s knot had gone down, and his cock slips out of Isaac, that the omega realized that the name Scott had shouted hadn’t been Isaac’s._

_Isaac rolled away from Scott, “Get out of my bed,” he said coldly._

_“What? Isaac? What’s wrong?” Scott mumbled sleepily._

_“Get out of my bed!”_

_“Why?”_

_Isaac turned to face the alpha he had been falling in love with, “Because Scott, I’m not going to let you call me by someone else’s name while we are fucking!”_

_Scott looked confused, “I—”_

_“You called out Allison’s name!” Isaac growled, his eyes glowing gold. “If you want a princess? Go fuck her, asshole!”_

_Scott sighed and got out of the bed, and got dressed. When he was at the door of Isaac’s quarters, he stopped and turned back to face Isaac. Scott’s expression twisted in a sneer, as he said, “You’re a fun lay, Isaac, but that’s all you were ever going to be, no one is going to want an omega who gives up their virtue easily.”_

_Isaac was shocked at Scott’s words. True to society as they may be, he’d only ever had Scott as a lover. Something the alpha had known before they had started having sex. Isaac had believed the unspoken promises Scott had cleverly implied. After Scott left, and Isaac let himself buried his face into his pillow to muffle his sobs of pain and disappointment that he could be taken for a fool as quickly as he had given his virtue to Scott._

Isaac rolled his shoulders, throwing off the memory as he walked into the prince’s private study. He really had no one but himself to blame. Isaac had been blinded by the fact that a lord of Beacon was showing interest in him. And it wasn’t that Isaac didn’t know how selfish Scott could be, he had known him since they were children. But Isaac had hoped his feelings for Scott were returned, and for a short time, it seemed that they were, that had changed when the Argent princess had shown up.

Isaac looked down consulting his tablet, he looked up to see Stiles sitting behind his desk, then back down at the data pad, “The guests for your birthday celebration will start arriving today—”

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Stiles barked at him.

Isaac looked up, startled, “What? Nothing’s wrong?”

“Then why do you look like you’ve been crying…again?” Stiles asked concern laced his voice.

“I wasn’t—” he broke off, before whispering out, “it’s over between Scott and me.” Stiles is one of the few people to know how serious his relationship with Scott had gotten.

Stiles’ honey-colored eyes narrowed. Isaac suppressed a shudder at the cold look in his prince’s eyes. Glad that he wasn’t the one to arouse the man’s temper. When the prince said, “I can have him banished to the deep desert; we need someone to oversee one of the Ash processing plants.”

“As much as I would like that,” Isaac said with a shake of his head, “it wouldn’t solve anything.”

“What do you want, Isaac?” Stiles asked in a soft tone.

“I want to forget that I trusted Scott McCall enough to let him into my bed,” Isaac muttered, he glanced at Stiles, “and to make certain I’ll suffer no mistakes from my lack of judgment.”

The prince nodded slowly, “I’ll make you an appointment with the Royal Healer.”

Isaac breathed a sigh of relief that his prince understood what he didn’t say, that in a moment of passion, he let McCall knot him, that Isaac could bare a bastard because of his trust in an unworthy alpha.

“Though,” Stiles said softly, “ _should_ you find yourself with child, you will suffer no reprise from it. I’ll see to that. I’ll claim your child as my own.”

Isaac gave him a shaky nod. This was the difference between his prince and Scott. This was why Isaac would do anything Stiles asked of him with no question. Stiles cared for his people in a way that, Scott, for all his innate kindness, just couldn’t do for them. Isaac straighten his spine, cleared his throat, and looked back down at his tablet,

“As I was saying, the guests will start arriving today from Camelot, Atlantis, Gotham, Triskelia…”

***

Derek stepped through the Star Gate with a cold shudder. He much preferred to travel by space ship to Gate travel. There was just something unnatural about walking through what was basically a wormhole on one planet and stepping out on another one. He turned to make sure his companions had made it through. Derek had to admit though he didn’t like to travel by them Star Gates are beautiful, reminding him of a deep shimmering pool of waving ever color-changing ocean waters.

Derek watched as Lord Boyd ordered the servants carrying the gifts that Derek had brought for the prince of Beacon. He was about to join the lord when his uncle called his name. Derek looked over to see his uncle standing next to a man that was at least a decade or more older than Peter with graying blonde hair. Derek walked over to Peter,

“Derek, I’ll be leaving everything in your hands,” Peter said.

“What,” Derek said flatly.

Peter sighed. “I want to catch up with an old friend, Derek. He’ll be busy this week, and now is the only time he has free.”

Derek saw the blond man speak to a young Lycan with curly ash blond hair as the younger boy looked down at a data pad in his hand. The older man walked over to Peter and whispered in his ear, Peter smiled and nodded at him. The older man placed his hand at the small of Peter’s back and lead him away. The Lycan nodded to the older man and walked over to Derek and introduced himself as,

“I’m Isaac Layhe, Knight of Beacon. I’ll be showing you and your people to the quarters you will be using during your stay on Beacon.” Isaac told him. “You’ll have enough time to freshen up before the Royal Gift Receiving starts. After that, there will be a feast and entertainment.”

Derek nodded. Isaac walked over and began to speak with Lord Boyd. A pretty blonde girl slid up to Derek’s side and whispered into his ear, “He’s cute.” Derek turned and glared at her.

“You are here to help represent Triskelia. Not to find a bedmate.” Derek muttered.

The blonde girl purses her bright scarlet painted lips, “Can’t I do both?”

“No.”

****

Isaac left the delegates from Triskelia at their quarters with the information when the Gift Receiving would start. If Isaac hurried, he would have just enough to bathe and change his clothes in time for it.

“Isaac!”

Isaac closed his eyes. He didn’t want to deal with Scott, the alpha had made his choice. Isaac opened his eyes, faced the alpha, snapping, “You will address me by my rank, Lord True!”

Scott’s eyes widened in surprise at the other’s tone. “Isaac!”

“No!” Isaac snarled a hint of fang flashing, his eyes glowing bright gold. Scott took a step back. Because one walked with caution around an angry Lycan. “We have—” Isaac was cut off when someone called Scott’s name. They both turned to see Allison Argent standing at the end of the hall.

“Allison,” Scott breathed out as if in the presence of his savior. Isaac flinched at the sound of the woman’s name. Allison quickly made her way over to Scott and latched onto his arm.

“There you are!” Allison cooed, “I’ve been looking for you. I need your advice on the gift I’m giving the prince. I want it to be sure it’s something Stiles’ will like.”

“Just make sure your people don’t attack Beacon, and that will be gift enough for Stiles,” Isaac muttered under his breath. Allison’s eyes widened at his words and began to tear up, and angry expression crossed Scott’s face as he snapped out,

“Mind your words, Sir Layhe!”

Isaac rolled his eyes. He walked away from the pair, Scott cooing and petting the Princess as she all but wailed out, “Why doesn’t anyone like me!”

_Because none of us trust you, princess._ Isaac thought _I don’t like you because you **stole** what should have been mine!_


	8. Eight

**_“…When the Sun falls on the Nemeton,_ _the Fox shall stop the Silver Curse, with Wolf and the Hyena by his side. As the Mad Emperor’s laughter rings out over the flames, a Son of Krypton looks on in sorrow when the Lavender Prince is claimed by the Fox…”_**

-Excerpt of the _Fox Prophecies_ : Prophesized by Seer Cordelia Chase of House Aurelius. Prophesized five years before the rule of Imperial House Nogitsune.

Derek shifted in his spot in the receiving line. Beacon was as he remembered it. The unbearable, never-ending heat from the double suns of the world, it made him long for the cool-tempered hemisphere of Triskelia’s lush forests and jungles. The dry weather made Derek thirst for something cool to drink, and the brightness of the suns caused him to have a headache after the first hour on the planet. Derek glanced around the ballroom, taking in the other representatives of the other Grande Houses and Great Houses, which there were many, it wasn’t surprising. John Stilinski well-loved among the members of the Planetary Alliance. As well as Beacon’s own Noble Houses, which there were many.

“What are you so nervous about, Sir Derek?” the blonde Lycan teenage girl next to him asked. Derek was impressed that she had remembered the proper form of an off-world address for him. While they were away from Triskelia, Derek wasn’t a prince, but merely Sir Derek Hale of House Hale. If he had been the first or second son, he would have had the title of Lord. Derek glared at her; it wouldn’t do for Erica Reyes to get a big head. It was a significant event that Erica was even here since she was the youngest ever to receive the Gift of Lycaon’s Bite at fifteen, two cycles ago, very few off-worlders ever received it. Derek’s mother had been the one to give Erica the Bite and, in doing so, made the girl a member of House Hale; as such, she was honored on Triskelia as a Princess Royal because of this.

Derek looked at his honorary sister, “I’ve never made a gift for a member of a Grande House before, Erica,” he hissed. “Where is Peter? He is the one supposed to be doing this! What if Lord Nogistune doesn’t like the gift? Can we lose an ally over less than a well-received gift?”

“He’ll like Triskelia’s, your gift,” Boyd said, his smooth voice washed over Derek calmingly. Boyd was a dark-skinned, born Lycan from the southern regions of Triskelia, of the Noble House Boyd. He was a quiet man who said little and saw a lot. Derek relied on Boyd’s council in times of crisis…like now.

“Yeah, you spent a long time working on it…how long?” Erica asked, mirth shining in her Beacon brown eyes, it was the only thing that marked her as a Beaconite native.

“I worked on the blade for six months,” Derek muttered, as the receiving line moved up, “it was the only thing I had on hand that was an appropriated for a gift.” Derek could now see an older man sitting on a throne. It was to Derek’s surprise it was the same man that had greeted Peter when they had arrived by the Star Gate and had quickly spirited Peter away.

Next to him, lounging on the steps of the dais, was a young man in a bright scarlet tunic jacket, the symbol of Great House Nogistune and Grande House Stilinski on it. He was lithe, as were all Omega, brownish-blonde gravity-defying hair. He watched the members of the other Houses warily, a slightly upturned nose, his skin was lightly tanned, and he had beauty marks on his right cheek that trailed down his neck enticingly. In short? Lord Nogistune was a beautiful Omega, and he looked _utterly_ bored with the proceedings before him. Stiles looked unimpressed, at the last gift, was a vase. From what Derek could see, a hideous one at that.

“Derek,” Boyd said softly to get his attention, “no one has put as much thought into their gifts as you have, he’ll like them.”

“I hope so. We can’t afford to lose the favor of Beacon because Lord Nogistune is not happy with the gift.”

“You worry too much, brother,” Erica whispered.

Derek watched as a young man about Lord Nogistune’s age stepped up. Finely dressed in the Beacon military-ques tunic jacket that seemed to be the fashion among the young aristocrat men, he had light brown hair that bordered on blond, brown eyes that had bright gold and sapphire flecks in them. He presented Lord Nogitsune with what looked to be a well-crafted sword cane.

“Thank you, Sir Raeken,” Lord Nogistune said, though it seemed to Derek that the Omega was having a hard time keeping the sneer out of his voice. “For your gift, but…” The young lord stood up and took the sword cane in hand and revealing it before spinning quickly, stabbing the blade into the arm of the throne, causing John Stilinski to eye his son in disapproval. Lord Nogistune leaned all of his weight on to the sword…slowly, the blade began to bend, then it snapped, causing laughter from the Court. Proof of cheap craftsmanship. If Lord Nogitsune had used that to defend himself? The odds would not have been in the young lord’s favor. Lord Nogistune threw the sword hilt on the floor; it slid, stopping at Sir Raeken’s feet.

“Theo, have House Raeken sent your lovely sister next year.” Lord Nogitsune said with an overly sweet smile, as he delivered the thinly veiled insult of, “Ria at least knows how to gift, a _good_ gift.” Sir Raeken’s expression turned dark, then he bowed, and left the receiving line, grabbing a wine goblet from a passing servant. Lord Nogistune looked at the Court, “Next,” he said in a dispassionate voice.

Then it was Derek’s turn, Lord Nogitsune’s honey-amber colored eyes raked over him, catching the light from the sun in such a way that they seemed to glow, in much the same way a Lycan’s would. The sight caused a tingle to run down Derek ‘s spine, making him shiver, despite how overly warm it was in the room. Derek motioned to the servants that were carrying the gifts he brought, as other announced who he was to the Court. Something that was only done when an off-world guest presented an offering.

Derek opened a small metal cooling chest that one of the servants was holding, revealing little, multi-colored balls, coated in what looked to be sugar, “Sweet’n’Sour Fruits candy,” Derek said, glancing at Lord Nogitsune, “there a favorite of my sisters. They are all different fruit flavors,” he selected one randomly and popped it into his mouth, chewed and swallowed it to show they were not poisoned, it was a common practice when giving food items as a gift to another House. “I’m not a fan of them, but my sisters love them.”

Lord Nogitsune walked over and picked a dark yellow one from the chest, and did the same as Derek had done, his eyes widened, as he chewed, asked, “Banana flavored?”

Derek nodded, “The light-yellow ones are lemon,” he said, closing the chest and motioned for too, two other servants that carried a large wooden chest between them. Derek walked over and opened it, revealing it to be lined with books of all shaped and sized. Lord Nogitsune started to take a step towards it but checked himself but not before Derek saw the movement. “I took the liberty of choosing some books from the Triskelia Royal Library for you; there are some Lycan histories, poetry, romances. There is also a USB fill for more popular Lycan fiction and non-fiction works.”

“You chose them, yourself?” Lord Nogitsune asked.

“Yes, my lord,” Derek said. Derek wasn’t sure what the look the other teenager was giving him meant, but he couldn’t look away from Lord Nogitsune’s eyes— “Derek!” Boyd hissed softly. Reminding Derek, “Oh, yes, the last gift,” he motioned to some more servants in the Triskelia colors of sapphire blue and black. Derek opened the long case they held, revealing a katana style sword, in its sheath with a fox carved in the metal on the hilt it has dark purple gemstones for eyes.

“A handcrafted sword from the only apprentice that Hattori Hanzo has ever taken.” Derek murmured. “The apprentice has been studying under the master for five years now. It is his finest work to date,” Lord Nogitsune took the sword from the box and unsheathed it in one smooth movement, “With this blade, the apprentice as earned his Mastery of Craft.”

Lord Nogitsune stepped back from Derek and performed a short, yet complicated sword kata, causing the sword to become a blur in the air, which proved to Derek that the younger man knew how to use a sword and use it well. “If it needs it, I can adjust the grip on the hilt,” Derek said.

Lord Nogitsune spun on his heel, took a half step, and the tip of the katana rested just a hairs-breath under Derek’s chin, “You are the apprentice?” He asked, breathlessly.

“Stiles!” John Stilinski snapped, “You do not hold a weapon to the throat of a son, of the House that is Beacon’s oldest and dearest ally!”

_What an unusual name,_ Derek thought.

“Fun ruiner,” the young lord muttered, yet smiled at Derek as he said it, dropping the sword from Derek’s throat. “Do you use swords as well as you make them, Sir Hale?” Derek nodded, though he could admit he made them better than he could use them. “Perhaps you would like to help me put this fine weapon through its paces?”

Derek blinked, “You wish to spar with me?” The prince nodded back, Then Derek remembered something, “Are Omegas,” he saw the prince’s expression begin to darken. He sputtered out quickly, “allowed to associate with Alphas?” Knowing that on some planets, they weren’t nor were Females, and for the life of him, Derek couldn’t remember if that was so, on Beacon or not.

“Omegas can associate with whoever they want, _I_ can be _friends_ with whoever I _want_ ,” Stiles muttered, “the only thing we _can’t_ do is inherit the throne of Beacon.”

“I see,” Derek said, though he didn’t. If Christian had stayed on Triskelia, he would have inherited the throne, and _he_ was an Omega. What did it matter if an _Omega_ inherited a throne?

“Stiles, you have other gifts to receive,” the Grande Duke of Beacon said.

“How long will you be staying for, Sir Hale?” Stiles asked.

“Only for the next four days, my lord.”

“Oh,” Stiles said a little sadly, Derek thought, “I’ll see you at the garden party tonight and tomorrow we can spar— Isaac, when am I free tomorrow?”

Isaac appeared seemingly from nowhere, he had a tablet in his hand, “You have from ten a.m. to noon free, the day after, my lord. Then you have to get ready for the Ball tomorrow.

Stiles frowned, “Why does that take eight hours? I’m not a woman!”

“Making you into something fit to call a son of House Nogitsune and Stilinski takes a lot of time and effort, my lord,” Isaac said, blandly.

“Why do I keep you around when you talk to me like that?” Stiles asked mock offendedly.

Isaac shrugged, “It’s because I talk to you like that; you keep me around.”

Stiles turned back to Derek, “If we are going to be friends, Sir Hale, you must call me Stiles.”

Derek smiled, “Only if you call me, Derek.”

“Stiles!” the duke growled.

Stiles leaned close to Derek, “Tomorrow at ten, sparring.” Derek nodded his agreement.

“ _Stiles_!”

Stiles grimaces at his father’s bellow as he sheathed the katana, the motion just as smooth as when he uncovered it. Stiles ordered the candy to the kitchen. The books to his room. Before retaking his seat on the steps that lead to his father’s throne. The katana is laying across Stiles’ lap; the young lord would rub his thumb over the head of the fox on the hilt between its ears. Derek joined Erica and Boyd, where they stood a few feet away. He jumped when a hand clapped down on his shoulder.

“Well done, Nephew.” Peter murmured into Derek’s ear, causing the younger Lycan to startle at his sudden appearance, “It looks like you’ve won Beacon’s favor,” eyeing Stiles as the boy, petted the sword in his lap, a bored expression on his face when he was presented with the next gift.

“Where the hell have you been?” Derek hissed.

“Well, you see…” Peter trailed off, and Derek knew that look on his uncle’s face.

“By _Fisi_ , no! I don’t want to know who you are trysting with; know if _she_ finds out you are a dead man.”

“My lovely coyote of a fiancée doesn’t care who I fuck,” Peter said, rolling his eyes. It was no secret that his upcoming marriage to the son of House Coyote was not one he wanted, but when the fact that he had a child within House Coyote, was discovered, Peter was to marry into it.

“I was talking about my mother,” Derek said, causing Peter to wince, no Talia Hale, Queen of Triskelia, wouldn’t be pleased to learn of a tryst and if Derek didn’t know about it? He wouldn’t have to say anything if his mother asked.

Derek left his uncle to his intrigues shortly after that conversation. He weaved his way through the crushing crowd of aristocrats; the feast was held after Stilinski’s son had received his gifts was now in full swing. Music played by a live band, _the Dandelions_ , the lead singer, a young man named Jaskier. He was in his mid-twenties with messy chin-length brown hair. Sharp, intelligent eyes, outlined in black kohl, were color of the heart of a flame, looked over the crowd as he has sung his band's most famous tune, _Toss A Coin_.

The singer seemed disappointed when he couldn’t find whoever he was looking for. Derek knew of the rumors that surrounded the singer and the unsavory company he chose to keep. Rumors about having taken a member of the Imperial House to his bed as well as having a Witcher and a Sorceress for lovers were some of the tamer ones that followed the singer. It made Derek wonder why Duke Stilinski would let the man perform here.

Derek saw some of the actors from the Meadows Acting Troupe milling around talking to some of the guests. The performance of the monologues from the ‘ _Phantom of the Opera’_ had been exciting to see. Samuel Emerson’s performance as _Eric_ , the titular villain of the play, had been, Derek thought, one of the best performances of the character he had seen to date. It was a shame that the young man wasn’t in the ballroom. Derek would have jumped at the chance to meet the handsome, talented actor. Derek dodged a servant carrying a tray of fruits, in doing so Derek bumped into a young woman, her dress was a dark emerald green that flattered her lightly tanned skin and brought outshine in her brown hair.

“Excuse me, my lady,” Derek said.

“Don’t call me, _my lady_ ,” the woman snapped. Though there was no anger behind her words, Derek could hear the frustration in her tone, “I’m no noble lady to be fawned over,” she muttered.

“My pardon…Miss?” Derek said, for if she wasn’t a Lady, then she had to be a Miss. The woman nodded in acceptance of that, “Derek Hale,” Derek introduced himself with a bow.

“Well-Met, Prince of Triskelia,” the woman said, a slight smirk on her lips, “Xander Harris,” she replied with a small curtsy. One that was almost an insult to his station or would be if Derek cared about things like that.

_Xander Harris,_ Derek thought the name sounded familiar.

“Of Dale?” He asked. Xander nodded. _The Dreaded Hyena,_ Derek thought, didn’t look all that fearsome. Not like the rumors said she was, but Derek knew that looks could be deceiving, one wouldn’t believe his sisters were dangerous until they had their claws in someone, and by then it was too late. Women were scary; Derek knew from experience. Before Derek could say anything else, the music suddenly stopped, and a commotion came from the doors of the ballroom,

“ ** _His Imperial Royal Highness, Prince Alexander Joseph Luthor, Son of Emperor Lionel Luthor of Imperial House Luthor!_** ” Was announced by a herald.

“What is _he_ doing here?” Xander muttered.

An attractive young man, a couple of years older than Derek, walked into the room, dressed in varying shades of lavender, he was pale-skinned and completely bald. He had his arms out, spreading royal purple cape that was attached to his wrists. He greeted the occupants of the room with a bright smile. Stiles quickly makes his way over to the Imperial Prince, watched as they exchanged greetings.

Xander leaned over to Derek, “Do not mention his lack of hair unless he brings it up in conversation. He lost it during a childhood illness and is sensitive about it.”

Derek nodded and wondered how she knew that.

***

Lex walked into the ballroom with trepidation. He knew how unwise it was to be on Beacon. For years Lex had known how keen John Stilinski was on an Imperial marriage. The man is quite vocally about it whenever he and the Duke of Beacon had met in the past. From the look on Stiles’ face, Lex could see the young man was not happy with his presence here. Visits from the Emperor’s son never boded well for any involved, least of all for said Emperor’s son. Stiles greeted the Prince with a kiss to the back of his hand.

“Happy Birthday, my friend,” Lex said, greeting the young Prince in this manner because Lex did, in fact, think of the younger man as a friend. The conversations they had shared in the past was always stimulating. Lex only wished he could have gotten to know Stiles better because of them, but spending too much time where John Stilinski had access to Lex was unwise, unless the imperial Prince found himself forcefully wed to the Duke of Beacon. Something that Lex _and_ his father were opposed to for different reasons.

“I wish I brought you good tidings.” At Lex’s serious expression, Stiles frowned, “Is there somewhere we can converse privately?” Stiles nodded, leading the Imperial Prince way where they could speak alone.

***

Xander frowned as she watched as Stiles leads the Imperial Prince out of the room. Too many people had noticed that. She only hoped that John hadn’t been one of them. His machinations for an Imperial marriage were uncomfortable because it made Xander wonder just how far the man would go to obtain it.

Stiles was courting trouble, and there wasn’t any help for it. Her fiancée did like the Imperial Prince to some degree. Xander only hoped this would be worth the scandal that ensued. She prayed to the Goddesses that the Duke was too involved with seducing his current bedmate to notice that the Imperial Prince and Stiles had sneaked away from prying eyes. Xander turned to Sir Hale, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the dancefloor.

“May I have this dance?” She asked with an overly bright smile. Sir Hale gave her a grumpy frown but nodded his consent as she led him into a waltz.

***

Stiles closed the door to the room, that he brought Lex too, behind him, “What is this about, Your Highness?”

“Lex,” the Imperial Prince said, “Stiles, I’ve told you to call me, Lex.”

Stiles gritted his teeth; time was running out! Stiles knew they only had a few minutes before someone informed his father that Lex was here. Stiles hissed, “Why are you here, Lex? If my dad realizes you are here…”

Lex waved a hand, not sounding worried at all as he said, “Yes, yes, I know. I could be forced into a Union with him.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the Imperial Prince, “Why are you here?”

Lex sighed, “You have a spy among you. Perhaps even an assassin.”

“I see,” Stiles said, unsurprised. There were many of his bastard half-siblings that wanted him dead in hopes they would be favored by the Duke. “Do you know who?” Stiles asked.

Lex shook his head, “I just know an attempt is to be made sometime before your eighteenth birthday.”

“You could have just sent me a vid-message. You didn’t need to come all the way here to Beacon.” Stiles said, frowning.

“No, I couldn’t Mieczyslaw,” Stiles winced at Lex’s correct pronunciation of his real name. The Imperial Prince was one of the few people outside Stiles’ family that could say it the right way. “Not when I’m sure that _my father_ is endorsing your death. My presence here will show him my disapproval of his actions.”

“ _Your presence here_ ,” Stiles stressed the words, “my friend, will make a convenient scapegoat for your father when I’m attacked if you are still on Beacon when it happens!”

“Fuck,” Lex hissed, realizing that was true. It would be a convenient excuse to make war on Beacon if anything besides a forced marriage were to happen to him. The door to the room was suddenly thrown open! John Stilinski stood there, his hand wrapped around the back of the neck of a handsome young Alpha, his green eyes flashed with anger and his blue-black hair falling into his eyes. “Clark,” Lex whispered, disheartened, “you were supposed to stay on the ship!”

“Sorry, Lex,” Clark whispered. “You were taking too long,” he threw a glare at John, “I got worried.”

“It’s okay, Clark,” Lex said softly. John let Clark go with a small push, and Clark rushed over to Lex’s side. Lex turned to the Duke of Beacon, “I came to give your son a warning. There will be an attempt on his life sometime before his eighteenth birthday.”

“And how do you know this?” John demanded to know.

“A member of my court came to me with this information.” Lex said, “It is confirmed that you have a spy among you.”

“A spy?” John repeated slowly, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, your grace,” Lex said, firmly.

John nodded to himself, “I will get my people on this at once. Thank you, Your Highness.”

Lex smiled, “I consider Stiles, my friend.”

“Well, that’s…” John started returning Lex’s smile.

“In fact, it is well known how you would like a closer Imperial connection for House Stilinski,” Lex continued speaking over John. “My,” Lex and I paused, glancing quickly at Clark, “consort-to-be have come to offer Stiles and his Fiancée a Union-Marriage contract.”

“You wanted to _marry_ my son!”

Lex nodded, “I find Stiles to be an interesting and intelligent person. I’ve heard that he had passed the War Master’s _Manifesto._ I took the test as well a few years ago. I scored highly on it, though I didn’t pass it.”

“What part did you fail on?” Stiles asked, curiously.

“Ethics,” Lex said to Stiles with a slightly sardonic smile.

John frowned, “I will take your offer for a Union with my son under consideration. It has been endorsed by the Emperor, correct?”

“Of course, your grace, why else would I be here?” Lex said with all the charm of a used spaceship salesman closing in on a sale.


	9. nine

**_“…when Stiles Stilinski was denied the chance to rule his home planet by his father, many think this damaged his relationship with the Grande Duke of Beacon. For many years Stilinski refused to speak about it or of his father in general. Some wounds go too deep and still bleed years after we receive them; in this, Stilinski is no different than anyone else. He just happened to have a great deal of luck and cunning on his side during the events that almost took his life more than once, during the week of his eighteenth birthday celebrations…”_ **

Quote From: _Interview with a Consort_ _, -_ Samuel Newton Emerson, First Imperial Consort, of House Nogitsune.

It was early the next morning when Stiles walked into the Archives. It had taken some fast talking on Stiles part to see that the Imperial Prince and his consort-to-be left Beacon, both unwed to himself or his father, though it was not without promises on both Stiles and Lex’s parts to the Duke of Beacon. Stiles prayed he nor Lex would have to keep those promises because the last things Stiles wanted was to rule the known universe. He would be quite content with just gaining the throne of Beacon.

Stiles trailed his fingers along the spines of some leather-bound books, on a shelf as he walked by them. He had spent many an afternoon here in this room, reading everything he could, books, scrolls, digital files, it is his goal to read everything in the Archive. There was floor to ceiling bookcases filled with books and manuscripts, of the histories of Beacon’s past. Computer terminals where one could get on the Ultra-net and communicate and also find information about other planets in the Alliance.

“Archivist!” Stiles called out. A tall, thin man around the same age as Stiles’ father came out of a room off to the left side of the room. He had black hair and brown eyes that were common on Beacon and lightly tanned skin.

“Congratulations on becoming War Master of Beacon. I do believe Mieczyslaw, that you are the youngest to become War Master in Beacon history. Though I’ll have to look it up to verify it.” The Archivist said.

“You’ll have to do that later. I need you to look something up for me.”

“I live to serve,” said the Archivist, sarcastically.

“Has an omega ever ruled Beacon? Not as a Consort or Regent but as King?” Stiles asked seriously.

“Why can’t you ever ask me easy things? Always with you, it’s the serious questions,” sighed the Archivist, “Beacon’s history is long, my lord, I’m sure somewhere, somewhen, and that omega has ruled Beacon as King.”

Stiles nodded, “Documentation as verification would be nice to have as evidence.”

The Archivist narrowed his brown eyes at the young lord, and stated, “You are planning something,” Stiles gives the man an innocent look, “Don’t give me that look!” The Archivist muttered, “I’ve known you too long to be fooled by it.”

Stiles sighed, “I don’t want to order you to do this, Adam.” At the Archivist look of disdain, “But I will.”

“Fine!” Adam Methos huffed, “When do you need the information?”

“As soon as you find it,” Stiles told him.

“Get out of here!” Methos said, waving his hand at Stiles, “So I can get back to work.”

“My thanks, Archivist.”

“Oh, don’t thank me yet. I might not find what you want.” Methos warned.

“Or, you might find what I’ll need.” Stiles countered, then walked out of the Archives.

_I have to prove to my father, that I could rule Beacon, despite being an omega. Having documentation that omega had ruled in the past is just the first step in convincing him that I should be his heir to the throne._ Stiles thought.

***

Stiles walked down the corridor; he was returning to his quarters after an uncomfortable breakfast. Isaac and Scott’s falling out was only one of the issues that made it that way. Stiles’ father was both proud of the fact that Stiles had been offered a Union-Marriage with the Imperial Prince and his consort-to-be. And disappointed that it was _Stiles_ that had was offered the marriage contract. Of course, Xander had found the whole thing hilarious, until Stiles had reminded her that she would also be a part of the contracted Union-Marriage.

Xander, Stiles knew, had even less of a desire to rule the known universe that he has, sometimes Stiles is sure his wife-to-be doesn’t want to be part of a Grande house. It is something that causes him to worry, knowing he could lose Xander should she ever decide that she wants nothing to do with the headaches that come with politics of being a part of a Grande House. Stiles was sure that if Xander wanted to, she could disappear, and no one would ever find her if she didn’t want them too. That it was only Xander’s affection for him that kept her with him.

Something Stiles had never been sure how he earned. Because if she _ever_ found out the truth, that their first meeting had been a manipulated ploy to gain a foothold in House Giles and the Bronze Zone, a meeting that had been carefully manipulated by his father and Rupert Giles. Stiles shuddered to think just what Xander would do to him when she found out. It wouldn’t matter how much he… _lo_ \- cared about her; she would most likely kill him or made him wish she had.

Stiles was almost to his rooms when he’d heard the humming in the near silence hallway. It was a sound that all children of noble families were taught to recognize— the humming-drumming sound of a Hunter Drone— it was a sound that once learned was never forgotten. To do so would mean death for the one it was the target of, Stiles froze as he had been taught to do so many years ago. Hunter-Drones were used only in assassination attempts. They were a quick and easy weapon used to kill the children of noble houses because they could be sneaked into a House easily. Hunter -Drones were motion-sensitive used on the children of noble houses because children were rarely still.

While the device could be used by any cut-rate assassin, it had originated from, the Witcher’s Guild. Witchers had once been protectors of the Lost Colonies of the Children of Terra, but due to the bad treatment they suffered at the hands of humans and later the other races, they turned their backs on them. Hiring their services out to the highest bidders, slowly over time becoming an elite-assassins.

From the corner of Stiles’ eye, he could barely make out the small sphere-shaped device floating in the darkened shadows of the corridor, twisting and turning as a little metal sighting eye hunted for its victim. Stiles could tell it was an older model, from the bulky size of it, the newer models were the size of a small coin, this model was about the size of a man’s hand. The gray-silver of the metal gleamed where the light hit it, making the sighting eye visible as it searched for its prey.

As it searched for _Stiles_.

A cold sweat broke out on the back of Stiles’ neck from the effort it took to stay so still. Yet, it was this every stillness that would save his life. As long as he was motionless, it couldn’t _see_ him. Stiles knew the sighting eye would have to swivel side to side to look for its prey. Slowly, the device began to float closer to him, closer until it was right in front of him. It rose from his mid-chest level until its sighting eye was looking straight into Stiles’ amber-brown left eye.

_Don’t blink,_ Stiles thought, _whatever you do, don’t blink._

Suddenly a door a few feet away opened, the sighting eye of the device swiveled sharply towards the motion,

“Get down!” Stiles shouted, hoping that the person behind the door would react quickly enough, firing a bright red laser at the door.

Stiles grabbed the sphere and, with all of his strength, slammed it into the wall, breaking the sighting eye and rendering inert. Stiles panted, breathless from the exertion of what he had done. He pulled away from the wall and dropped the dead Hunter-Drone on to the floor. Quickly Stiles made his way over to the open door, the smell of burnt wood sharp in his nose flinching at the hole burned into it by the laser. Some places in the wooden door still being licked by small flames and hot ambers, knowing he would find the dead body of the poor soul who had opened the door.

On the floor, a young blond man sat with his hands wrapped around his head.

Stiles dropped to his knees in front of him, “Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he told the trembling boy. “You’re safe now.” Slowly, the blond young man dropped his arms from around his head and looked around.

“Your Highness?” He asked, confused, “Did you just save my life?”

“What were you doing in that room, Mr. Emerson?” Stiles asked, helping Samuel stand up, with gentle touches.

“I was rehearsing my monologues that I’m going to perform at the Garden Party.” Samuel told him, “It is so loud in the quarters my troupe is staying in that it’s hard to think.”

“I see,” Stiles said. Stiles barely heard the palace guards that were coming his way because of the noise caused by the Hunter-Drone’s laser hitting the door. It was a question that Stiles would have to ponder later, the guards had arrived, and Stiles knew that his father would to shortly.

***

An hour later, in a room across that of the one that had the laser scorched door. After the guards had left and the hallways had fallen quite, a wardrobe opened, and a male figure dressed in black stepped out of it. The assassin slowly made his way out of the room. Pulling up the hood of his tunic-cloak was pulling up over his head. That had been too close. The Prince of Beacon going to be more stringent than the prey he usually hunted, the assassin, thought to himself.

***

John looked around the table at the faces of his small council. Men and women that had been with him when he took the throne of Beacon. He had seized it from his tyrant of a father, the Old Duke. Who had almost destroyed Beacon with his views on the place females and omegas had in Beacon society? It had taken virtually John’s entire rule so far to fix what the Old Duke had broken. And he hadn’t totally succeeded. Though things were much better for omegas and females on Beacon.

_They tried to kill Lord Nogitsune,_ John thought. Using his son’s title in hopes of distancing himself so he could think more clearly, so he could see so what had to be done. Yet, the seething, writhing, _rage_ rolled under his skin like a living, breathing entity.

“How did a _Hunter-Drone_ get into the palace!?” John demanded to know.

“We can only assume that the assassin came with the influx of servants and entertainment for,” Deucalion Morell, was a Lycan that John had known since they were teenagers, he had been one of the first to follow John when he went against the Old Duke. He was classically handsome with his graying dark hair and functional features. A pair of dark shades covered what was once a pair of striking blue eyes, Deucalion had been blinded during a failed peace talk with Triskele and Silber. He nodded at Stiles, who sat at John’s left, “Lord Nogitsune’s celebrations,” Deucalion said unhappily.

Next to Deucalion sat his wife, Emissary Marion Morell, her hands folded on the table in front of her. She had been the one to save Deucalion’s life when the peace talks went wrong, she brought him back to Beacon to heal and never left.

“I’ll have our men questioning every new servant and the entertainment troupes, but we can’t rule out that it could have been one of the guests behind this assassination attempt.” James Barnes said, betraying no emotions.

No, any of the Grande. Great. Or even the Noble Houses of Beacon could have been behind this attack. _They tried to kill Stiles,_ John thought.

“If it was one of them, we must proceed with caution,” Said Dame Helena Swisher. An aristocratic grandmotherly woman with snow-white hair and sharp violet eyes, “you have more enemies than allies since you’ve fucked your way over and though most of them,” and a shockingly foul way of telling truths no one wanted to hear. It was rumored that she had been one of the Old Dukes mistresses, though she never confirmed or denied it. Yet the Dame’s attitude towards how John, was telling in and of itself.

_I should have married Claudia, and we should have entered a Union with the men we loved. We could have been happy. I could have been happy to have made a life together with them after we lost Claudia to her illness._ John thought, but he had a dream, one nurtured by the Old Duke, of an Imperial Union. Lionel Luthor, though, was a cunning asshole and had kept his only omega son far from John’s grasp. It made John wonder just why the Imperial Prince and his father were offering Stiles and Imperial Union-Marriage.

“We will find them,” General Gibbs said, “It’s just a matter of time, your grace.”

John slammed his hand down on the table, suddenly causing everyone there to startle, but Barnes, who looked unimpressed, as John shouted angrily, “They tried to _kill_ my son! _My son_!”

“It was a hunter-drone, Dad,” Stiles said, calmly, where he sat to John’s left, “It was an older model. It was a sloppy attempt on my life, almost as if they really didn’t want it to work. If they had, they would have used one of the newer models of them.”

“There shouldn’t be _any attempts_ on your life, Stiles!” John exclaimed. “You will one day be the Barrier of Beacon’s Heir! You must be protected.”

Irritation crossed Stiles’ face, as he growled out, “Then perhaps I should have been raised in obscurity like the rest of your bastards!”

“Stiles!” Melissa McCall hissed, from John’s right, “That is not how you speak to your king!”

“If he doesn’t like what I have to say?” Stiles shrugged, “He can send to Foxworth Hall, it’s been a while since I’ve seen my mother’s manor. It’s not like I’m _heir_ to the throne. He has plenty of other children, non-omega children, I am replaceable. He doesn’t need me here—”

“That’s enough, Stiles!” John said, rubbing a hand over his face, “You’ve made your point.”

“Have I?”

“Yes, son, you have.” John sighed. His son’s ambitions were not lost on him. They just weren’t realistic in Beacon’s current political and social climate. With the grown work John was laying perhaps Stiles would see one of his own omega children one day claim Beacon’s throne, “I’ll announce who the heir to Beacon’s throne will be tomorrow before the Garden Party.” John ignored the dark looked that passed over his son’s face at his words.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> : What the eyes have seen could not be erased. -Dune Messiah

**_“…People fear me. I never wanted that. Nor did I want to be a part of history. I just wanted to love him…and be loved by him in return.”_ **

****

Quote From: _Interview with a Consort-_ Derek Hale-Stilinski, Second Imperial Husband of Imperial House Nogitsune, General of the Imperial Armed Space Force, First Lower Prince of House Triskelia.

The royal bathing rooms in the palace were as beautiful as they were practical, using natural hot springs that supplied the castle most of its water. It was artful and soothing, using many of the browns, reds, and orange colors of the desert in tile work. Deep heated stone pools were in all four corners of the room. Communal bathing was not a foreign concept to Derek. Lycan’s had very little by way of modest. Communal bathing was also a means of socializing among Lycans. Derek never really cared for public bathing, too many people forgot their bathing edict. Derek was surprised that a desert world would waste something as important as water in such fashion. When he asked, Isaac Layhe, when he had given Derek the code card for the baths as well as a schedule when they could be used, the curly-haired Lycan had said,

“ _Less water is used communally that would be used privately. Cleanliness is important to us on Beacon. Sand is not kind to the skin_.”

Derek walked towards the pools with just a towel his waist. The baths were empty, only one other was in them besides Derek. A dark-haired male stood in one of the pools. Derek clean clothes in a small cloth tote bag that he put in a chair by one of the pools. His eyes were drawn back to the other male, Derek admired the trial of beauty marks that ran down the man’s back. Derek couldn’t look away from the flexing of his muscles as he washed his arms. The upper swell of the man’s buttocks could barely be seen just above the milk-white waters, the pure citrus scent that wafted through the air, was pleasant to Derek’s senses. Lycans had a stronger sense of smell that most of the other races in the universe. Derek must have made some sort of noise that had the man turning around startled.

_It’s the prince!_ Derek thought.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles growled harshly. The growl, though, would have almost intimidated a Lycan. Derek was impressed by it.

“Taking a bath,” Derek said.

“You’re not supposed to be here!” Stiles hissed, “No one is!”

Derek gave him a confused look, “Forgive me, but this is a public bath. If you wanted privacy, you should have bathed privately.” At Stiles annoyed look, said, “I’ll use one of the pools on the other side of the room. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“I don’t care if you use the same pool as me—” Stiles broke off when Derek said,

“Oh, good,” and dropped his towel, walking over the pool Stiles was in.

“You’re not… _Oh my_ …” Stiles stutters out, shyly, Derek thought, at the sight of all of Derek’s uncovered skin. Derek had never acted so boldly with anyone before. Something about this Prince made Derek want to preen and puff out his chest. He wanted the omega to admire, to _desire_ him.

“You won’t mind if I join you?” Derek asked, stepping into the pool.

Stiles blinked at him coming back to himself as Derek waded into the milky waters, “Not the point,” he pointed at the Lycan with a finger, “No one is supposed to be here at this time! I’m not supposed to bath with anyone else in the room!”

“Why not?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged, “I don’t know? Baths are seductive? More seductions take place in baths than anywhere else… I tend to tune the Chamberlain out when he speaks.”

“You have to bath alone because—” Derek paused, frowning, at the archaic way of think that Derek kept running into on this planet. Which was so odd because Beacon was so progressive in so many other avenues, “that is so stupid. Anyone who’s seen you use a blade knows you can protect yourself.”

Stiles looked away as Derek settles into the hot water of the pool with a contented sigh.

“It’s more about protecting my purity,” Stiles muttered.

“Rumor has it you lost that in a greenhouse.” Derek stated, raising an eyebrow. Cora had giggles endless when she had dug up that tidbit of information.

“I’m an Omega, so long as I don’t take a cock in my cunt or ass, I’m still considered a virgin no matter how many times I bed Xander.” Stiles sighed, “and she really wants to fuck me with her favorite dildo, and I _want_ her to do that!”

“So, why can’t you?” Derek asked, picking up a washcloth and wetting it the water. Trying not to imagine the dark-haired beauty fucking the Prince with a dildo. Though Derek could help wondering if it was a strap-on one or a double-sided one. Derek shifted his hips, feeling his cock start to rise with those thoughts and though the heat on his cheeks could be explained away by the warmth of the bath if it came to attention.

“A Union-Marriage. I have to remain pure for whatever Alpha my father decides that I should take as a husband.” Stiles said, his tone flat and unhappy. Derek was sure that the Prince would be happy with just having Xander as his spouse, but it was clear from the way people on this planet acted they thought that an Omega _needed_ an Alpha.

“Things are so strange here for Omegas.” Derek said, “On Triskelia, purity isn’t an issue. Omegas can enter into a Union-Marriage with sexual experience. It’s preferred actually. So, both parties are on equal footing,” he rubbed the washcloth over his chest.

Stile couldn’t look away from the sight. He licked his lips, “Could an omega rule Triskelia?”

“Yes, if they are Lycan, no, if they are human,” Derek said.

“What do you mean? Lycans are human!” Stiles exclaimed, “You have a few more perks than most, fangs, claws, and glowing eyes, better senses, but Lycan are _not_ animals!”

“There are some that would disagree with you,” Derek said softly.

Many would disagree, Derek knew, but it made him happy to know Stiles wasn’t one of them. “Those on Triskelia, that can’t go into the half-shift,” Derek’s facial features shifted, becoming more lupine, his eyebrows disappeared in favor of a more massive looking brow, his canine teeth becoming more pronounced fangs, and he flicked out his claws. Derek tried not to flinch at the sound of awe Stiles made, “or the full-shift into our beast. Are considered human, among Lycans no matter what bloodlines they were born too.”

Stiles scooted closer to Derek until he was sitting next to him. “May I—” his hand hovers near Derek’s face. Derek nodded. Stiles gently touched Derek’s brow, trailing it lightly over the slight ridge bridge of Derek’s nose. Stiles frowned as a question occurred to him,

“Where do your eyebrows go?”

Derek sighed, shaking his head, his features returning to his more human guise. He’s heard that question more than once, since the first time he went into the half-shift. Derek started to reply but stopped, cocking his head to the side, focusing his attention…his hearing…

“What is it?” Stiles asked.

“Someone is coming.”

“ _Cat-shit_!” Stiles exclaimed, shoving himself away from Derek, “It’s the Chamberlain! He’s the only one with the code to the baths when I’m in them!” A thought occurred to Stiles, “How did you get the codes?”

“Sir Layhe, he gave me the code card and told me what time the bath would be empty. I don’t like public bathing.” Derek told him quietly, Stiles muttered under his breath about matchmaking busybodies. “Why?” Derek asked.

“Why is Isaac matchmaking?” Stiles asked, confused.

“No, why is the Chamberlain coming here?”

“To confirm, I’m alone.” Stiles said, slowly, “because no one is _supposed_ _to_ _be here_ with me.” Stiles gives Derek a considering look, “How long can a Lycan hold their breath?”

Derek can hear the footsteps getting closer, his eyes widened and reply softly to Stiles, “Six minutes, but with training up to ten to fifteen. Why?”

“Take a deep breath,” Stiles said putting his hands-on Derek’s shoulders and quickly shoved him under the bathwater.

Chamberlain Adrian Harris would be considered a handsome man if not for the arrogant expression on his face. He had the features all Beaconites were known for, the Beacon brown eyes, tanned skin from the double suns, and dark hair that was sun-streaked with lighter shades caramel brown, pulled into a tail low at his neck. The chamberlain wore the dark and light brown robes of those that dwelled in the deeper desert regions of Beacon.

“Why are you disturbing me, Chamberlain?” Stiles asked his tone flat, as he relaxed against the back of the large bathing tub.

“One of the guards reported seeing someone enter. Is there some on here with you?” Adrian Harris sneered.

“As you can see, I am alone,” Stiles muttered, picking up the cloth that was floating in the water and began to rub his arm with it, ignoring the other man.

“So, it seems.” The Chamberlain said, not bothering to disguise the disbelief in his tone.

“You can leave now,” Stiles said dismissively.

“Sooner or later, you will mess up, Nogitsune. And your purity will come into doubt when that happens? You _will_ be set aside as the Barrier of the Heir to Beacon.”

“Careful Chamberlain Harris, you have far too many enemies, not enough allies to play this game,” Stiles said, tsk-tsk a finger at him.

“I will _not_ see trash like you on the throne, Nogistune! It was bad enough that the Duke took up with your mother, at least she had the good grace to die when he no longer wanted her in his bed!” The Chamberlain snarled, angrily.

Stiles kept tight restraint over his rising temper. It would do him no favors to lose it with the chamberlain, “ _Leave_ ,” Stiles’ voice had a dangerously mocking edge to it, “before I call for the guards _. Help, help_ ,” he said in a falsetto, “the Chamberlain _attacked_ me! I fear for my virtue!”

Stiles let his voice return to normal when he said, “Who do you think they will believe? The son of the Duke? Or someone who had been known to get underage omegas and females drunk to bed them?”

The Chamberlain glared at Stiles, he spun sharply on his heel and swiftly left the baths.

Stiles waited a couple moments to make sure that the Chamberlain wouldn’t come back. Then he reached under the water, grabbed Derek under his arms, and yanked him up. The moment the Lycan’s head broke through the water. Derek gasped harshly for his breath but couldn’t seem to catch it.

Derek blinked rapidly when he felt soft, slightly chapped lips against his own. Derek exhaled, bringing his hand to rest on the Prince’s waist. The tips of Derek’s claws scored Stiles flesh lightly. Stiles squeaked softly Derek took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Derek could feel Stiles hands on his biceps, one of his hand slid up his arm over his shoulder into Derek wet hair, his fingers clenching in it. Derek traced Stiles’ upper lip with his tongue, making the Prince sighed into Derek’s mouth. Derek thrust his tongue into Stiles’ mouth and twined it around the other boy’s. Derek could feel Stiles’ hard cock pressing against his hip.

Derek _wanted_ his hands all over the other young man in his arms… his hands grasped at the wet, slick skin of Stiles’ lower back and ass as he pulled Stiles closer to him. Derek’s cock rubbed against Stiles’ dick, causing Stiles to moan into Derek's mouth as they kissed. When breathing became an issue for them, both they broke apart. Stiles leaned his forehead against Derek’s collar bone, panting for breath. Derek rubbed his hands up and down Stiles back.

“We can’t do this,” Stiles panted out, not noticing that he was practically in the Lycan’s lap, that he was ridding the older boy’s thigh as he rubbed his cock on Derek’s hairy thigh.

“Do you want to stop?” Derek asked. The look that Stiles gave Derek needed no words because Derek could hear the implied ‘no, you idiot, I don’t _want_ to stop, but we _have_ too,’ “Because we can,” Derek told Stiles.

“I know that.” Stiles said, putting some space between them, “We _can’t_ do this. It doesn’t mean I don’t _want_ too,” he clarified.

“Because of Xander?” Derek asked. Knowing that some people thought that kissing some or having sex with some else when you were in a relationship with someone was considered by a lot of people to be adulterous. If the other person didn’t know about it, at least.

Stiles inhaled slowly, “No. Xander, of all people, is going to _call me_ an _idiot_ for not letting you fuck me.” Stiles turned away, getting out of the pool. Derek was mesmerized by the droplets of water that ran down over the Prince’s nicely shaped ass. Stiles pulled on a robe that had been left on a chair. The ruby-colored silk stuck to Stiles’ wet skin, on his chest and calves.

Stiles turned to face Derek, “I’ve wanted to kiss you since you gave me that beautiful sword and the books! _Preserver_! No one, but Xander ever gives me books!” Stiles hit a few buttons on a nearby control panel, and the milky water began to drain from the pool. Derek shivered as the cold air hit his skin. He smirked as the Prince’s eyes dropped down below Derek's waist, Stiles’ eyes were glued to Derek’s hard cock. Stiles licked his lips, hitting another button the board and soon fresh hot water refilled the pool. “What scent do you like?”

“Nothing strong,” Derek said.

Stiles nodded, getting out a purple-colored tablet the size of a strawberry, he tossed it into the water of the pool. It floated on top of the water for a moment then began to sink, fizzing as it dissolved, turning the water a light lilac that reminded Derek of the late afternoon skies of Triskelia, the sweet scent of lavender and chamomile filled the air.

“Relax and enjoy your bath. We- we can’t, I can’t risk us being seen leaving together.” Stiles said.

Derek nodded, understanding. No matter how unconventional Stiles maybe? There were still rules of conduct the Prince had to follow. If it had become known that Stiles had been naked with an alpha… It would ruin Stiles’ chances at a good Union-Marriage. Or if John Stilinski thought a slight was given to his son? It could end with Triskelia losing an ally. Wars had been fought for fewer reasons than that of a male sticking his cock in someone he shouldn’t.

Stiles stopped by the doors of the bath, he turned and asked, “Sir Hale?”

“Yes?” Derek asked, wondering at the formality. No one who he had kissed should call Derek by his title.

“I’ll see you at the Garden party tonight?”

Derek nodded.

“Good!” Stiles grinned, “Save me a dance?”

Derek nodded again.

“Wonderful!” Stiles flashed another bright grin at Derek, then left.

Derek sank down int the water up to his chin with a sigh, “For you,” he closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall of the pool, “I’d save them all.”

***

A klaxon sounded, and screens all over Beacon came to life. They showed the Grande Duke of Beacon sitting behind a desk, looking slightly uncomfortable as he always did when he made public announcements.

_“People of Beacon, as you know, at the end of the week, your Prince comes of age. Where he shall be given the title of War Master of Beacon!”_

Cheers were heard all over the planet at the newest. Beacon always prospered when there was a War Master.

_“Our Prince will also be given the honor of being named Barrier of the Heir of Beacon.”_

More cheers mostly from the Alphas and Betas in the crowds around the communal screens. The Omegas and Females were quietly respectful of this understanding better of what that meant than the other genders did. That it would entail a loss of freedom for their Prince, a loss of the hope they’d started to have for the future, if not theirs, then that of their children. The Barrier of the Heir of Beacon rarely sat on the throne, but quietly ruled from the shadows.

_“Our Prince and his wife-to-be, Miss Xander Harris of House Giles, of Dale, will be entering a Union-Marriage with Lord Scott McCall, of House True. We are sure that Lord True will be a good husband to them and a fine addition to House Stilinski.”_

This was met with little fanfare, House True was known to be a rising star among the nobility of Beacon.

_“We have chosen a Son of House Hellhound to be our Heir to the Throne of Beacon. Sir Jordan Parrish will one day be your new Grande Duke, chosen because he is a blood heir of House Stilinski.”_

Blood Heir was a polite way of claiming a bastard child without stating the fact the person was born out of wedlock.

_“We hope that you will embrace your new Heir with the same love you have shown me. Know that House Stilinski will always protect and serve the people of Beacon first and foremost.”_

More cheers were heard throughout the planet.

***

John sat back at his desk, wondering if he had made the right choices. He sighed to himself, the announcements had been made, it was too late to take them back. The door to his office was suddenly thrown open… John closed his eyes; it was time to face his choices. He sat slumped in his chair behind his desk, listening tiredly as people in his private study who he knew were upset at him.

Isaac Layhe was the most vocal as he yelled at Jordan Parrish, John’s blood heir apparent. John wondered if Isaac realized what John’s announcement of Parrish being his blood heir really meant for House Hellhound. If Isaac realized that if Jordan was John’s blood heir, so also Camden had been for Jordan Parrish was a _clone_ of Isaac’s older deceased brother.

Scott McCall tried to calm the omega down, but at Isaac’s look of disdain, quickly backed off. Which was strange, John thought, Scott had been regularly bedding Isaac for months now. John had been waiting for Scott to come and ask for permission to court the knight formally. But then the Argent princess had shown up, turning Scott’s head. That was not a pairing John had planned for, he would have instead Stiles had taken an interest in the princess, but Stiles only looked at her in loathing. It was the main reason John had made the announcement that he had; he was hoping Scott would come to his senses and claim Isaac as his omega.

“Isaac! Enough!” Stiles snapped, suddenly, and Isaac went silent.

John looked over at his son. Stiles was standing in front of the tinted window, looking up at the faded lavender image of Triskelia in the bronze Beacon sky. John tried not to favor any of his children, but Stiles, John had to admit that Stiles held a special place in his heart. John watched as Xander Harris, Stiles’ future wife, placed a hand on Stiles’ arm, Stiles glanced over at her, and they shared a look that held an entire conversation.

It made John slightly envious; he’d had that once, with Claudia, with their omega and beta. _I should have married Claudia, and entered into the Union with the men we loved,_ John thought. Which caused John to think of the Imperial Prince, a Union-Marriage could still be had between the Imperial Prince and his son, there would just be an alpha added to it as well as a female. It was not that unusual that such things were done.

John stood up and walked out from behind his desk and over to Stiles, “Jordan will make a good Duke of Beacon, Stiles, with you as War Master of Beacon to advise him. Scott is a good alpha and will be a good sire for the heir of Beacon,” _and I will do something about that later, but for now, he will be a shield against those who would harm you,_ “and man.” He placed a comforting hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles reached up and grabbed his father’s hand. Stiles felt the substantial weight of the gold ring John wore on it. He looked down at his father’s hand on his shoulder, at the signet ring with the double suns of Beacon embossed on it. _Ducal Signet ring, prove of rulership on Beacon,_ Stiles thought, _something I will never get to wear._ Stiles took a deep breath, and released his father’s hand, patted the hand Xander still had on his arm, before placing it in the crook of it, moving closer to her and them away from his father.

“Xander and I will come to terms that you want us to enter a Union with an Alpha that has all the appeal and intelligence of a root vegetable, Dad,” Stiles said, leading Xander from the room.

Isaac glared at John then grabbed Jordan and pulled him from the room hissing under his breath at the older man.

“Well!” Melissa exclaimed brightly, from her seat in the corner of the room, snapping open her fan and fluttering it, “That went better than expected.”

Scott frowned, leaning on John’s desk, sounding confused when he asked, “Did Stiles just call me a potato?”

“Scott, darling, why don’t you go and talk to Stiles and Miss Harris about your Union,” Melissa said.

Scott nodded and headed towards the door, “Oh, I should tell, Allison,” he ran out of the room.

“Scott!” Melissa called after him, but he didn’t stop, “that boy,” she muttered, getting up and walking over to John, “my love?”

“Leave me, Mel,” John said, not looking at her.

“John—”

“ _Now_ , Lady McCall.”

Melissa frowned, before dropping into a quick, low, curtsy, “Your Grace,” then she left the room.

John sighed and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, wondering what he was going to do now.

***

“Stop mopping, Derek!” Peter snapped at his nephew, who had heaved another sigh from where he laid on Peter’s bed, face buried in the pillow, “This isn’t the end of the world.”

“I’m not mopping, Peter!” Derek said, rolling over to glare at the ceiling.

The Grande Duke’s announcement of Sir Parrish as the Heir Apparent of Beacon came as a surprise to many. But it was the announcement of Stiles’ engagement to Scott McCall that was the real problem for Derek. He had thought that he, Stiles, and Xander were on the cusp of starting…. something? Derek didn’t want to call it a courtship, because it wasn’t one, it hadn’t had time to become that serious, yet. An interest, maybe?

“I just,” Derek sighed, “I liked him, and I liked her… and now, nothing can come of it.”

Peter crossed his arms over his chest as he glared down at this whiny child. How the boy was ever going to become the General of the Lycan Forces, Peter honestly didn’t know. “Derek, you will come to learn that all plans change in the course of life.”

“What plans, uncle? I don’t have any plans.”

“And _that_ my dear nephew is the problem right there.”

Derek turned his head to glare Peter as he sat down on the bed. “What do you mean?”

“You engaging Lord Nogitsune and Miss Harris in courtship is no longer an option,” Peter told him.

“I know that. Stiles and Xander are now promised to Lord True.”

Peter gave Derek a disappointed look, “Derek, that means you will have to seduce the prince and his lady, preferable somewhere public—”

“No,” Derek said flatly. “They wouldn’t want that.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, “Are you really going to let that spoiled lording have such a wild omega as Stiles, or spirited woman as Xander Harris, Nephew?”

Derek sighed, “Stiles, though I don’t know him well, isn’t that type that would go against his father. Stiles would want what was best for Beacon. Just like I would want for Triskelia.”

Peter stood from the bed, “John Stilinski, isn’t known for making the best decisions, Derek.” He snapped out, bitterly, “Not when he let the best thing that ever happened to him, slip through his fingers.”

“Peter?” Derek asked, concerned.

Peter sighed, and for a moment, Derek didn’t see the cunning, conniving, master manipulator that the man usually presented to the world but someone who had lost a chance for happiness, “Don’t let anyone or anything stop you from getting what makes you happy, Derek. For people in our position’s happiness, love, true friendships are things to be cherished. Because they are things that only happen to us once in our lives.”

“It’s selfish just to think about what I want, Uncle. What about what Stiles or Xander wants?” Derek asked.

“Do you really think what they want is _Scott McCall_?”

Derek remembered the look that had crossed Stiles’ face when the Duke had announced the engagement. _No,_ Derek thought, _I don’t think it is._

****

“Well, that nixed any long-term patronage in the butt,” Henry said, laying on his back in his cubby-hole bed, Andrew cuddled up next to him. Andrew looked disinterested in the conversation and rubbed the palm of his hand over Henry’s crotch. Henry closed his eyes at the omega’s touch.

All of the troupe was worried were these new announcements meant for them. They had been hoping that the young Prince of Beacon would be they’re in for employment in Beacon’s court.

“You don’t know that,” Yuki muttered, walking past them.

“Let me take your mind off of that disappoint, alpha,” Andrew purred at Henry, he reached over and pulled down the privacy curtain. It wasn’t long before, sloppy, wet, sucking sounds could be heard coming from the cubby-hole bed area.

Samuel’s face twisted in disgust at the sounds. _Things were going to clunk on this desert world, and all those two wanted to do was fuck?_ Samuel thought, sitting hunched over, elbows on the table and his head in his hands, his finger digging into his scalp.

Yuki sat down across from his leader, “You have a choice to make soon.”

Samuel jerked his head up, “ _I know_ ,” he snapped, glaring at Yuki. Things were heating up, and any idiot could see things were about to become chaotic on Beacon. He was going to have to be careful not to get burned. Changes like this could cause shockwaves throughout the universe.

****

“So, what’s the plan, Mischief?” Xander asked, from her spot lying on Stiles’ bed as she watched her lover pace the room. Stiles paused, glancing at her with a raised brow as if to ask, ‘what plan?’ Xander shook her head at him, “Don’t give me that look, I know you. You have plans within plans, within plans that cause chaos wherever you step.”

Stiles smirked, “You would be so bored without my plans, Xander.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded, Stiles was never dull, which had been a problem with her flirtations in the past. They had bored her once the shiny had worn off. Stiles, though, hadn’t. Xander didn’t think he would ever bore her. “But I will not be bound to _Scott McCall_ , not even for you. I will not be his wife! Yours? Yes. But not _his_!”

Stiles nodded. Unions were tricky things and had to be navigated carefully. Not all members of the Union had sexual or romantic relationships with each other. Though that was the mythic holo-novel dream that everyone inspired to find. Seldomly did all the members find passionate love with each other? At least one or two members were in the Union because of arranged marriages with another member of the Union or because of political reasons, like Stiles’ engagement to Scott McCall.

“I will not let him treat me or you, the way he treated Isaac!” Xander spits out.

Stiles hadn’t been happy to learn of the relationship between his knight and Scott. But Stiles never interfered with it, because it wasn’t his place to do so. Scott had for a time made Isaac happy, and Stiles had thought that Scott would seek Isaac’s hand for a for marriage. But Allison had entered the picture, and it seemed Scott had changed his mind where Isaac was concerned.

“Scott McCall is not my biggest concern right now,” Stiles told Xander.

“Then what is? Finding out who tried to murder you?” Xander asked, angrily.

Stiles shook his head, “No, our _Morderca_ has that well in hand.”

“So, what are you worried about?”

“Jordan Parrish.”


End file.
